


Moving Forward

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Series: Took my Boat Down to Hotel Road [3]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, hotel au, individual warnings to be added to chapters as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: Three years ago, Camelot 's knights rallied to their King and Queen and did what even the gods themselves could not do.After that, living a normal life had to be easy, right?
Relationships: Agrivane/Lamorak, Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian), Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian), Galehaut/Lancelot du Lac, Gareth/Lynette, Gawain/Bertilak de Hautdesert, Guinevere/Arthur Pendragon, Isolde the Fair/Tristan (Arthurian)
Series: Took my Boat Down to Hotel Road [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663936
Kudos: 20





	1. Order Placed, Chaos Delivered

The phone had rung three times and no one seemed to be moving to pick it up. Kay was in the middle of a form he had to get out before the mail pickup came.

“Someone!” Kay bellowed from his office, “Get that fucking phone before I have to!”

The tell-tale scrambling across the kitchen told him he hadn't lost his touch. Even three years of marriage hadn't made him so soft around the edges he couldn't get an entire kitchen worth of staff to jump when he needed them to.

Gareth got there first.

“Camelot Kitchens, how can I help you?” Gareth did his best not to sound winded, “Yes, we cater. … Twenty-four hours for parties under twenty, forty-eight for parties between twenty-one and fifty, and anything over fifty needs to be a conversation. … Yes ma'am. … Yes, for six people tomorrow by three is doable. … Okay, “he picked up the pen tethered to the notepad he was pretty sure had just up and glued to the wall and started taking the order down. “Yes. … Yes. … Yes, yes, and yes. … Any allergies? … No, okay, thank you. And drinks? … Excellent, thank you. I'm just going to need to take down your name, email, phone number, and the address you'll need the food delivered. … Yes, you can pay over the phone. … Okay, yes, now your name, number, and address, please. … Can you spell that for me? … L-Y-N-E-T-T-E, okay.”

He nearly dropped the phone.

–

Gareth put the order sheet on Kay's desk with a shaky hand. Kay looked up to ask when the order needed to be done by, but stopped when he saw how pale Gareth looked.

“Gareth?” he put his pen down.

“I need to take a break,” Gareth said.

Kay frowned and opened his mouth to ask him what was going on, but Gareth tapped the name on the paper twice with his index finger.

“Take the day if you need it,” Kay recognized the name.

Gareth nodded and headed outside.

–

**From: Kay  
Come get your brother.**

Mordred had, for the most part, given up speeding during the day in the city, but Kay's text had him breaking every traffic law he could think of and quite a few he didn't know existed.

“Which brother do I need to collect and where is he?” Mordred had run to Kay's office as soon as he'd parked, not even bothering to lock the doors.

“You're not Agrivane,” was all Kay said.

“You texted me,” Mordred was panting for breath, “What's wrong and where is Agrivane and/or Gareth?”

“I texted, ah, crap, hold up,” Kay frantically tapped at his screen, “I did text you, sorry. Gareth said he needed to take a break and I told him to take the day if he needed it.”

“You never tell anyone to leave early unless it's urgent,” Mordred was still panting, “What happened?”

Kay handed the order slip to Mordred, who read it over.

“Oh fuck,” Mordred handed the slip back to Kay, “His wife's name set him off?”

“In a way that I'd almost bet it's not just the name,” Kay went back to the form he still hadn't finished, “Anyways, I figured Agrivane was just on the other side of the hotel, but since you're here you're more than welcome to go look for him.”

“Why would you bet?” Mordred asked.

“There's a soul-deep recognition,” Kay put his pen down, rapidly accepting he wasn't going to finish the form on time, “when you love someone, even if memory hasn't caught up yet.”

Mordred nodded, pretending he understood love that transcended time, and went to find Gareth.

–

“You have us in as Orkney once, two, three, four, and five, don't you,” Agrivane was the third Orkney brother to stand in Kay's office that day.

“They're out back,” Kay threw his pen down.

“Mordred already told me everything,” Agrivane sat down in the chair Kay kept mostly for decorative purposes, “But really, I could understand getting Gareth and Gaheris switched, and maybe even Gawain with either of them, but me and Mordred? I couldn't figure it out until I realized the number two and the number three kind of look alike if you aren't paying attention.”

“I'm trying to get this form filled out,” Kay growled, “I have ten minutes until the mail goes out and thirty minutes of form left.”

Agrivane sighed and held out a hand. Kay sighed and Gave Agrivane two of the remaining pages.

–

Mordred and Gareth had relocated to the coffee shop across the street in an attempt to give Gareth some physical space from work.

“It's just,” Gareth had calmed from shock to panic, “what if it _is_ her and she's here and oh my gods, Mo, everything's over and we're supposed to be leading normal lives but what it's her?”

“Maybe it is a normal life,” Mordred was doing his best to keep Gareth closer to panic than reverting to shock, “just with the people we know.”

“What if she's the first of many and the battle wasn't the only one we have to face?' Gareth tried to keep his voice down, “What if something that looks like a second chance is actually a harbinger? Or worse, what if it isn't her?”

“There's only one way to find out,” Mordred told him.

“Come in on my day off and ask to take the delivery over?” Gareth guessed.

–

Mordred had agreed, despite not working in the kitchens, to help Gareth deliver the food for one Lynette and her six friends.

As soon as they got in the van Mordred looked over at Gareth and said, “I do this because I love you.”

“I know,” Gareth couldn't help his trembling, “I love you, too, Mo. I'm terrified.”

“I want to tell you that you'll be fine,” Mordred put the van in reverse, “but you know I'm not one for platitudes.”

Gareth let out a quiet, distressed noise.

–

Mordred decided that carrying all of the trays was the safest idea for the food, given how the closer they got to their destination the more anxious Gareth became.

Gareth held the bags of sodas with a white-knuckle grip.

Mordred did his best to approximate a knock with his foot.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Order for Lynette?” Mordred asked.

“Yes, thank you,” the woman who opened the door answered, so clearly distracted, “please, come in.”

She lead them to the kitchen and gestured to where Mordred could set the trays down. Gareth deliberately avoided looking at her until he set the drinks down.

“Uh,” Gareth pulled the receipt and a pen out of his pocket, “I'm going to need you to sign here -” His sentence broke off when he finally got a good look at her.

“Yes, of course, I -” hers broke off in a similar manner, earlier distractions forgotten.

Mordred wondered if they realized how long they spent staring at each other, mouths open.

“Gareth?” Lynette finally said.

“Yeah,” Gareth managed.

“Wow,” Lynette hadn't moved, “I mean, I was hoping, what with Camelot and Camelot kitchens, but wow.”

“Kay was never one for sublty,” Gareth laughed.

“I, uh,” Mordred jerked a thumb towards the door, “I'm going to go tell Kay the order was placed successfully and let you kids catch up.”

“Wait,” Lynette told him, “Everyone else is going to be here in about twenty minutes.”

Mordred shrugged, figuring if she wanted him to wait he was in for six times the initial expected number of reunions.

–

Lancelot was thankful his kitchen was not large enough to run in, given the frantic energy behind Mordred's texts.

Kay and Agrivane had informed him, almost at the exact same time, that Gareth and Mordred were delivering to someone named Lynette and heard nothing from either of them until Mordred texted Lancelot directly telling him to gather everyone together.

“Did he say _anything_ else?” Kay asked, having moved from paperwork at work to cooking at someone else's home instead of going home early like he'd hoped.

“Nope,” Lancelot checked the fridge for the caramalized onion cheddar he could have sworn he had.

“Did he say what _time_ they'd be by?” Bedivere asked. He'd gone straight to Lancelot's the moment he got the text to rally by six.

“A bit after six,” Lancelot replied, “I figure everyone has different definitions of when six o'clock is so if it is Lynette and some of them miss the reveal, that's on them.”

“What about Arthur, Gwen, and Yvain?” Kay asked.

“You're the only one who calls her that,” Lancelot pointed out, “but they're going to FaceTime in.”

“It's five-thirty,” Kay checked the clock, “One day I'm just going to tell you to order dinner.”

“Not for something big,” Lancelot called his bluff.

“Will too,” Kay opened the dishwasher to start loading it, “Next time, news gets delivered over Chinese take out.”

–

When Gareth and Mordred finally got to Lancelot's house, it was six-thirty and there were six people with him. By some miracle, they were the last ones to arrive.

Even Morgan and Viviane had made the trip.

“Everyone,” Mordred called back into the house as he removed his shoes and tossed them into the pile, “guess who!”

“One's Lynette!” Tristan's voice came from the living room.

“Okay, but who are the other five,” Mordred called back.

Mordred held up a single index finger in the universal _hang on a second_ gesture and sure enough, there came a thundering of footfalls from the living room headed towards the foyer.

“Wait, wait, let me see if I can place everyone,” Dinadan was leading the pack. He squinted and pursed his lips as if thinking before he said, “Ragnelle, Lionel, Elyan, Owen annnnnnnd Sagramore.”

“He was always good with faces,” Lynette's hand was being gripped by Gareth's so tightly Dinadan wondered if they'd let go at all, and if so how they managed getting in and out of the van.

“Come on,” Dinadan said to them as he shooed everyone else back, “half the crew is still in the living room.”

“Some of us have a vague sense of self-preservation,”Bors' voice carried.

“Dad?” Elyan asked.

Bors hopped over the guard rail instead of walked across the living room to take the steps. The crowd still in the hall managed to part to avoid being thrown or crushed.

Bors and Elyan met in a crushing hug.

“Dad!” Elyan sobbed, “They said you'd be here but to actually see you...”

“I did not think I would see you again,” Bors confessed.

Dinadan herded everyone else into the living room to give them their moment.

Mordred opted to put names to faces by pointing to everyone in turn before depositing himself at Galahad's feet. Galahad made a curious noise and Mordred got up to sit in Galahad's lap.

Ragnelle only stared at Gawain for a moment before shrugging and looking decisively elsewhere.

Lynette, in turn, put names to faces for everyone else, finishing with, “And Elyan's in the hallway.”

“So holy crap, there's more of us,” Galehaut was desperate not to let things lapse into silence, “How'd you all find each other? And us?”

“Well,” Ragenlle said, “Lynette and I met in high school and I effectively moved into her parents' place after graduation. We met Owen during our semester abroad and he just kind of followed us back home because none of us wanted to get separated. Elyan we met on a humanitarian aid trip helping with post-tsunami clean-up and same deal, we all kind of wandered back to Lynette's parents' house. Sagramore we met on a cruise, go figure, and same deal, we all kind of wandered back together. Lionel we, well,” she looked to Lionel, who nodded, “Lionel we met in the middle of a bar fight. And, again, same deal, though by that time Lynette's parents had retired and moved out so we were all squished into a two-bedroom flat so all the sudden there was six of us there.”

“Can't imagine,” Gareth said. Gaheris, reflexively, threw the nearest object at Gareth's head. He realized too late Gareth was in no way prepared.

Mordred intercepted it, managing to catch it by the spine.

“Half of that was familiar and half of that was unexpected,” Lionel noted, “Catch us up, please.”

With a heavy sigh, Bedivere started the story.

–

By the time everyone had finished, Yvain had let his dogs out twice and Kay had started to nod off where he stood, using Bedivere for support.

“He alright?” Owen gestured towards Kay.

“Just exhausted,” Bedivere answered for him.

“Good,” Owen looked notably relieved, “But holy cow, that's a lot.”

“You can say fuck here,” Galahad informed him.

Arthur's echoing laughter startled Kay into a slightly more awake state.

“Holy fuck, that's a lot,” Owen amended.

“And you said it's been three years?” Lynette asked.

“Just over,” Percival confirmed.

“Where are you all living now?” Elyan asked.

“Oh, I know this one!” Dinadan exclaimed. “Here,” he pointed to Lancelot, Galehaut, and Bors, “an apartment about ten minutes away,” he pointed to Mordred and Galahad, “different apartment also about ten minutes away,” he pointed to Kay and Bedivere, “small townhome about twenty minutes away, with their super young daughter,” he pointed to Isolde and Tristan.”

“Oh congrats!” Lynette told them.

“Thanks,” Isolde smiled, “Currently asleep upstairs, well secured, don't worry.”

Dinadan offered a moment's pause before he continued, “Slightly larger townhome also about twenty minutes away,” he pointed to Agrivane, Lamorak, Gaheris, and Gareth, “House just barely in city limites,” he pointed to Gawain and Bertilak, “Vineyard in Oregon,” he pointed to the laptop screen Galehaut had set up, “runs his own dog rescue up by the California-Oregon boarder,” he kept his finger pointed at the computer screen, “studio apartment practically on top of the hotel,” he pointed to Percival, “and I technically own a house boat but spend most of my time here or at Tristan and Isolde's.”

“A houseboat?” Lionel asked, wanting to make sure he'd heard him correctly.

“Houseboat,” Dinadan repeated, “You said you six share an apartment?”

“Yeah,” Elyan took that as his cue, “but we travel as much as we can, and when we found a fairly new hotel named Camelot...”

“...just showing up if there wasn't, well, any of you all there would have been too upsetting,” Lynette picked up, “so we decided to go with an AirBnB and go through the attached catering.”

Bedivere laughed, shaking Kay with the force of it.

“What?” Lionel asked.

“Just a second,” Bedivere did his best to collect himself, “That's exactly how Kay and I wound up here, only then it was called Joyous Garde.”

“It continues to serve its purpose,” Lancelot sounded proud of himself, of his hotel.

“Wow,” Ragnelle looked around the room, “There's so many of you. Of us.”

“It's been a weird, wild three years,” Gawain finally said something. Ragnelle offered him a small smile.

“Give us a moment?” Ragnelle asked. Gawain understood he was to follow as she headed back towards the foyer.

Dinadan pulled out his phone, started playing music, and places his phone at the beginning of the hallway to offer them a little bit of a buffer.

“So uh,” Elyan looked around the room, overwhelmed, “what do you all do together when there hasn't been an emergency meeting called?”

–

“Ragnelle,” Gawain said as soon as she stopped in the foyer.

“Gawain,” she said, “you're looking well.”

“I'm feeling well, overall,” he realized it was true as he said it, “The whole adjustment period to being a mostly immortal god is a bit of a trip, but, you know, I figure it'll even out eventually.”

“Gawain,” she repeated.

“Look, I know we were married and I know how strong memories are and -”

Ragnelle cut him off with a gentle touch to his upper arm.

“Gawain,” she said for a third time, “you gave me my freedom and gave me the power of choice, and for that I am in your debt,” she paused, “but, and be honest with me, given the forced nature of our marriage, could we really have learned to love each other?”

“Probably not,” Gawain admitted, “Christ, I was worried this was going to go poorly.”

Ragnelle snorted a laugh. “Same, honestly.”

“Well,” Gawain struggled to figure out what to say next.

“It is good to see you looking so well,” she told him.

“You, too,” he replied.

She offered him a hug and he took it, squeezing her tight before letting go.

There was an explosion of overlapping voices coming from the living room.

“Want to go see who's fucking what up?” Ragnelle asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Gawain asked.

–

The best way to cram twenty-three people (plus the three watching remotely) into a single game of Cards Against Humanity, it turned out, was to divide everyone into pairs and play until one team had nine white cards or until someone fell asleep at the table.

Tristan and Isolde left early in the – even they admitted probably vain – hopes that they could get their daughter to bed early enough they wouldn't be woken by her screaming at four in the morning.

Kay fell asleep first, cheek on Bedivere's shoulder, so everyone counted their white cards.

Dinadan was declared the winner.

“I think we're sleeping here tonight.” Bedivere said.

“Sleeping on the couch,” Kay muttered. Bedivere chuckled.

Everyone else made no effort to keep quiet as they sorted the cards, knowing that if Kay was tired enough, he'd stay asleep.

“I,” Elyan looked between those he'd come with, “I'd like to stay here for a bit.”

“Of course,” Lionel told him, “Lynette?”

“Please?” Lynette asked, her hand still interlaced with Gareth's.

“I can take the rest of you back in the van or you can call a ride or whatever you wanted, really,” Mordred started with an offer and ended with indifference.

“Gareth,” Agrivane addressed his brother, “are you two coming back to the townhouse or staying here?”

Gareth and Lynette looked at each other, very clearly having a silent conversation.

“Mind giving us a ride?” Gareth asked.

“Of course not,” Agrivane seemed affronted at the notion he'd mind.

Everyone made their way out and Kay made his way to the couch. Galehaut helped Bedivere set up the air mattress and Kay relocated without really waking up.

Elyan and Bors decided that catching up in the basement was the best way not to keep anyone up despite assurances they were welcome wherever they wanted to go.

–

Kay awoke unreasonably early the next morning and dragged Bedivere back to their apartment so he could get ready for work.

“I'm going back to bed for another two hours as soon as I lock the door behind you,” Bedivere informed him.

“Of course love,” Kay kissed him on the forehead, “Don't forget to put in for the week of the eighth off next month.”

“Couldn't possibly forget,” Bedivere said through a yawn, “Like I'd blow our annual trip because I frgot to fill out a form.”

“Oh, fuck!” Kay's eyes went wide, “Fucking form! Shit, sorry, gotta run, love you, see you tonight.”

Kay left his coffee mug on the counter.

Bedivere chuckled and shook his head.

Whatever was coming, he welcomed it.


	2. Fingerlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orkney brothers are undergoing a lot of changes. Lamorak wants to know what the cost of rent is.

It was weird for everyone having Kay and Bedivere halfway around the world, but nowhere was their absence more acutely noticed than in Lancelot and Galehaut's kitchen on board game nights.

“Who's doing what and what do we still need?” Gawain asked as he let himself in the house, “Also, hello.”

“Gawain!” Gaheris called from the back of the house, “I think we've mostly good but, oh, no, wait, Dinadan's nearly peeled his fingernail off instead of the potato skin.”

“I'm fine!” Dinadan said, voice clearly not fine.

“No bleeding on the potatoes!” Galehaut chased Dinadan towards the foyer.

“Looks like I'm on blood duty,” Gawain shrugged.

“I'm got the peeler,” Agrivane sighed.

“Wash it first!” Lancelot told him.

“No shit,” Agrivane's reply was flat.

“What did we miss?” Ragnelle asked, the other five she'd first shown up with plus Gareth in tow.

“Dinadan can't tell the difference between fingers and potatoes,” Bertilak informed them.

“To be fair,” Dinadan let Gawain fuss over the injury, “fingerling potatoes are a thing.”

“Oh my god,” Elyan said from somewhere towards the back of the group.

“Relax, I doubt there will be human parts in the food,” Bertilak was joking.

They hoped.

–

Agrivane, Lamorak, Galehaut, Bors, and Galahad wound up pulling together to handle the rest of the cooking. A few potatoes were counted as a loss due to having been already peeled when they got blood over them.

They could have been washed off, but more than one person worked in the kitchen and the blood potatoes – Yukon gold, not fingerling, thanks – were tossed in the backyard in the hopes they'd take root or something.

Agrivane peeled while Lamorak diced, Galehaut handled the foods that did not need to be cooked, Bors handled the meats, and Galahad kept an eye on the pizzas in the broiler to make sure they didn't turn into charcoal discs.

“What's for dinner?” Lynette asked.

“In theory,” Bors said, “pulled pork with roasted root vegetables, but it seems also pizza.”

“Pulled pork takes hours to do it well,” Galehaut said, “and I know us. We'll be hungry again by then even if the pizza's gone.”

“I cannot disagree,” Bors shrugged.

Lynette watched, amazed at how it took five people to do what normally just took Kay with Galehaut being slightly protective of his kitchen counters.

“Kay really is a force of nature,” Galehaut sensed what she was thinking.

“Indeed,” she agreed, “but those two seem to have a rhythm going.” She gestured towards Lamorak and Agrivane, who seemed to have everything perfectly timed.

As soon as Lamorak was done chopping whatever he was working on, Agrivane would have finished peeling the next thing to hand to him.

The hand-offs were perfect, done without so much as glancing up to make sure neither of them dropped the food.

Their postures were mirrors of each other, too – same stance, same shoulder angle, same head tilt to see what they were doing.

“Like, they're really, really,” she started to say.

She was cut off by frenzied universal gestures for _stop_ from Bors, Galehaut, and Galahad.

“We're about to get the table set,” Gareth's voice was just too smooth, each word too perfectly formed to have been natural. Lynette took that as her cue to follow him.

“What was that about?” she whispered as soon as they were far enough away.”

“Oh,” Gareth closed his eyes, embarrassed on his brother's behalf, “they have _no idea_ how close they've gotten and we're worried if we point it out before they notice, one or both of them will spook.”

“Oh my god,” Lynette almost for got to whisper.

“Yeah,” Gareth opened his eyes again, “Try living with them.”

“You could always come live with us,” Lynette suggested.

“Oh gods yes,” Gareth's very soul lit up.

–

It was near three in the morning when games started wrapping up. It started with Tristan and Iseult, who – while they'd paid their babysitter for an overnight – really just missed their daughter.

“Hey,” Gareth touched Agrivane's shoulder lightly, “can we talk for a moment, before we go?”

“Of course,” Agrivane's brain went straight to panic.

Gareth inclined his head towards the basement, so down they went.

“Is everything alright?” Agrivane asked as soon as they hit the landing.

“Yeah,” Gareth was smiling, “Lynette asked me to move in with them.”

“And I'm assuming you said yes?” Agrivane's panic began to dissipate.

“I did,” Gareth told him, “And I know she's only been here for, like, four months, but -”

Agrivane held up a hand, and Gareth stopped.

“Are you _happy_?” Agrivane asked.

“Yes,” Gareth didn't hesitate, “God, it's like. Fuck. Like we just picked up where we left off.”

“Then go with what makes you happy,” Agrivane told him, “You have your entire life ahead of you, moreso now that we got the whole destiny thing out of the way early and survived.”

“Thank you,” Gareth hugged Agrivane, “Really, thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Agrivane returned the hug, “but you don't need my permission to live, Gar.”

“God you haven't called me than since I was maybe ten our first life,” Gareth laughed, “But really, though, we wouldn't be here, together, _living_ without you, Agrivane.”

Agrivane, unsure of how to respond, gave Gareth a gentle, playful shove.

–

Gareth moved in almost immediately, his stuff and her stuff crammed into an eighty square foot rental room – the group having shifted from an AirBnB to a more long-term rental house – that had a door that didn't close properly and a window air conditioning unit that howled like it was possessed when they absolutely needed to use it.

They did their best to align their work schedules but work in different parts of the house to separate work from each other, but as soon as work was over they were inseparable again.

–

Gaheris left for his semester-long work-study internship at a very familiar winery less than a month later.

“I'll be back as often as I can,” he told Agrivane as he went through his bags one last time.

“I don't doubt that,” Agrivane assured him, “Arthur and Guinevere will take good care of you.”

“You take good care of me,” Gaheris said absently.

If tears pricked the edges of Agrivane's eyes, he ignored them.

–

Lamorak technically worked remotely, so he often spent the day rotating between coffee shops small cafes to keep the scenery interesting. It had been an adjustment, going from traveling the world full-time to staying in one place, but finding what was left of Camelot had been why he started traveling in the first palce.

He had decided to work from Agrivane's for once, unusually tired and worried that moving around would kill his ability to actually get work done.

Agrivane had never discussed money with him, and had never told him what he paid in rent, but he'd gotten from the others that when they'd first moved into the townhouse Mordred had had four jobs and was almost never home, and that had been _before_ he'd started dating Galahad.

The gods themselves likely didn't know how thin Agrivane's paycheck had been stretched since Mordred moved out, but Mordred didn't seem like he'd leave his brother high and dry. Gawain and Gaheris, he knew, hadn't been able to contribute for one reason or another, and Gareth's work had been unsteady at best until fairly recently.

The point was, he felt obligated to shove money at Agrivane and say it was for his share of the rent and electric, and he couldn't do that if he couldn't produce work.

It was barely past two in the afternoon when he heard the front door open.

No one should be home.

He descended the steps as quietly as he could, trying to prepare himself for whoever was there.

It was Agrivane.

“Off early today?” Lamorak asked, words awkward on his tongue.

“Holy shit,” Agrivane startled, “You're home?”

“Working here today,” Lamorak told him, “If that's alright.”

“You live here,” Agrivane pointed out.

“About that...” Lamorak wasn't sure how to say _please let me know what half the rent actually is so you can maybe breaths a little or something._

“Oh god, are you moving out, too?” Agrivane's eyes went wide.

“I, what? No?” Lamorak stammered, then went for the most direct approach, “I wanted to ask what the rent was so I could actually start paying half.”

“Oh,” Agrivane's eyes were still wide, “It's, uh, “don't worry about it.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Lamorak tried another tactic. Agrivane shook his head no. “I haven't either. Come on.”

Agrivane shrugged his bag off, then his jacket.

“Yeah,” Agrivane took a deep breath, “alright.”

–

They fell into their familiar rhythm, each doing half the prep work, so well-timed it could have been an assembly line.

“I almost miss Gareth's music,” Lamorak tried to see how conversation fit into their cooking.

“Almost,” Agrivane snorted, “I wonder if he's still playing it loud enough the neighbors can probably hear every word.”

“I feel like someone would have given him shit at game night by now,” Lamorak noted.

“It's so strange,” Agrivane said, “not having them all here.”

“You five seem a lot closer this life,” Lamorak commented.

“It wasn't always that way,” Agrivane stopped, the carrot he was working on only half-peeled, “In the beginning we really didn't get together without there being a screaming match. It wasn't until Gareth and Gaheris showed up that civility even started to try to weave its way into our interactions.”

“From the sounds of it you all were still having moments around the time I got here,” Lamorak realized they were veering close to unsafe, untalked about territory, “Something about microwaving ravioli?”

Lamorak laughed so hard his entire body shook. “It's funny now,” he said, “but at the time Mordred forgetting to take the wrapped off his poptarts before sticking them in the microwave was anything but. That was the night Kay, Bedivere, Galahad, Percival, and Bors all showed up. The microwave incident was quickly moved on from, given, well, everything.”

“It all still sounds...I can't even find words for it,” Lamorak also stopped what he was doing, “Everything I missed, it seems...surreal.”

“That's a good word for it,” Agrivane dropped his head and shoulders, “The night you showed up. The first one. It was the night Lancelot revealed his magic is mind control. Gawain took it poorly at first and then bit me when I tried to silence him.”

“Which was when I came in,” Lamorak held no fondness for that night.

“Well, maybe half an hour after that,” Agrivane said, “Mordred came into the foyer bathroom maybe twenty minutes after the incident and insisted he help clean the bite. Ten minutes later was when you came in.”

“How you acted – how you protected Mordred,” Lamorak found the words somehow worse to say aloud than to think them over and over, “Once my anger had died down, I realized I should have known from that moment how different you'd be this time.”

“I was a coward,” Agrivane used Lamorak's word. Lamorak flinched, “but I've done everything I can to atone. Everything I can to give my brothers the chances I missed.”

“What makes you sure you've missed them?” Lamorak asked before he was sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Look at them,” Agrivane gestured ahead of him, “Look at the lives they're living, the places they've gone, how far they've made it in just two years. Christ. Three of them are living with their partners, one's going to college. Me?” Agrivane let his hand fall back down, wrist resting on the edge of the sink, “I have my job because of Lancelot. I'm not living here illegally because of Lancelot and Galehaut. Unless I become a citizen, this is it. This is the rest of my life if I want to stay with everyone.”

“Agrivane,” Lamorak's voice broke.

“No platitudes, please,” Agrivane felt like he might cry.

Lamorak put a hand against the side of Agrivane's upper arm, fingers splayed to give the muscle a squeeze. Agrivane relaxed into the touch, an unconscious gesture.

“What was it like?” Agrivane asked, “Traveling the world?”

“It was,” Lamorak took a deep breath, “There were so many things to see and places to visit and cultures to research. There were temples older than England and mountain villages so remote there were people who'd never seen their own reflection.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Agrivane told him.

“It was,” Lamorak agreed, “but it was lonely. Everywhere I looked, there were people who knew where they belonged. Families who'd lived in the same town for so many generations they knew where their great-great-great-great aunts and uncles and grandparents were buried. There,” Lamorak's breath hitched, “there were times when all I could see was how alone I was, how far away Camelot seemed. When all I could feel was the fear that I was alone in the world.”

Agrivane looked up to see the pain on Lamorak's face.

“What I'm saying,” Lamorak continued, “is I spent a long time after that first night jealous of what you all had, jealous I was so late to the get into the game, furious with how I acted.”

“But you came back,” Agrivane said, his words a peace offering Lamorak so desperately needed.

“I came back,” Lamorak added, “I found what I'd been looking for and then some.”

“There's life in the city and there's life in the Court, weird of a Court as it may be,” Agrivane closed his eyes, focused on his words, “I'm glad you came back.”

“Me, too,” Lamorak hadn't removed his hand, “and I'm thankful you've let me stay here.”

“It's the least I could do,” Agrivane assured him, “really.”

“You're a good man,” Lamorak told him, “not a platitude.”

Agrivane made a small, disbelieving sound but didn't argue.

“Fuck,” Lamorak finally let his hand drop, “if,” he took a deep breath, “if I've misread this, please, I'm sorry, but...”

“You already fucked me on a roof once,” Agrivane guessed where Lamorak was headed.

“This is a little different,” Lamorak said, then kissed him.

It was a gentle thing, tempered by fear and sorrow and longing and yet kept alive with a hope that dared to weather everything the past two years.

Agrivane moved one hand to Lamorak's waist. Lamorak took a step towards Agrivane, closing the gap between them.

Lamorak wrapped his arms around Agrivane, one arm slipped between Agrivane's arms and ribs, the other reaching over the top of his shoulders and down his back. Lamorak wrapped both of his arms around Agrivane's waist and held onto Agrivane like a lifeline.

Agrivane pressed into the kiss, then pressed into Agrivane. The kiss became less chaste, then downright obscene.

“Holy shit,” Agrivane breathed when they finally pulled away, “holy shit.”

“I'd tell you you could say that again but you already said it twice,” Lamorak's reflex was to tease, “but, yeah, holy shit.”

“I was worried,” Agrivane said, still breathless, “like, fuck, I – you – words.”

“You're the reason I have a place to live and it seemed like a terrible idea to pursue anything,” Lamorak admitted.

“So, we've both wanted this for a while but both decided talking about it was terrifying,” Agrivane assessed.

“I'm better at showing,” Lamorak told him.

“Then show me,” Agrivane's voice was low, needy.

–

The next big game night at Lancelot and Galehaut's, Agrivane and Lamorak made no effort to hide the change in their relationship. Somewhere around midnight, they relented and told the bare-bones version of what sparked the change.

“So what you're telling me,” Gaheris said over FaceTime, “was instead of talking about rent money you two finally stopped dancing around each other?”

They laugh but, yes, they supposed, that was more or less what happened.


	3. What's in a Kingdom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotel's closed for cleaning. Galehaut left his phone. Guinevere can help.
> 
> Mordred's having a morning off. Galahad's here for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter CW for: mentions of rape, survival sex, drug use, abuse, suicide, trauma recovery

Lancelot was pacing.

Lancelot had been pacing for the past day.

“It's just closed for two days,” Galehaut told him despite feeling the same anxiety.

There had been some sort of rumored outbreak in the area, so they'd opted to close the hotel for the most thorough cleaning it had ever received.

Even though they knew they didn't need it. Even though the health department had visited them no fewer than five times to certify they were good to go.

It was Kay, in the end, who pointed out that closing for two days – one for the cleaning and one to let the air conditioning system get the worst of the smell out – would ultimately be less disruptive than waiting until they needed to do it that Lancelot realized if Kay was willing to close the restaurant, it was something that needed to be done.

Needing and wanting so rarely matched up outside of relationships, Lancelot had decided. Galehaut had chuckled and agreed.

So there they were, away from their hotel for the longest time since they'd re-opened.

Arthur and Guinevere were on video chat, Lancelot's laptop set up on the counter, trying to help calm Lancelot down.

“Would it help if I grabbed some of the others?” Galehaut offered.

“Probably,” Lancelot worried his anxiety would do little but bring everyone else's mood down.

“I'll go text Kay,” Galehaut got up to go get his phone, leaving Lancelot with Arthur and Guinevere.

“Fucking hell,” Lancelot finally stopped pacing and sat down in the chair where Galehaut had been sitting, “Why am I like this?”

“Are you looking for an answer or are you looking to be assured what you're feeling is within normal expected reactions?” Guinevere asked.

“Both?” Lancelot didn't know.

“Hey,” Galehaut's voice was a little worried as he returned to the kitchen, “I think I left my phone in the office?”

“Fuck,” Lancelot swore.

“Do you have your keys?” Guinevere asked.

“Yes, why?” Galehaut blinked at the screen a few times.

“I'll be right there for your keys and I can go get it,” she offered.

“...it's been over two years since we all learned you can open portals and yet none of us have ever asked if you can control them,” Lancelot realized, “Well, Arthur might have.”

Arthur laughed.

“I can,” Guinevere ignored her husband, “but only if I've been there before. Long story for another day. Also, _someone_ walked through one once and decided he's never going it again.”

“Still stand by that decision,” Arthur's laughter died in his throat.

“Nope, come on, come keep them company,” she said.

“But the air -” Galehaut started to say.

“Don't worry about it,” she assured him, “keep the kitchen clear and we'll be there in five minutes or fewer.”

Guinevere ended the call.

–

Mordred purred, a sleepy thing, as Galahad traces slow, nonsensical patterns over his chest and stomach.

Galahad was reclined on his side using his other arm to prop himself up. Mordred was sprawled on his back, both hands behind his head, leg that wasn't next to Galahad propped up in an inverted 'V.'

“I don't think I've ever seen you sleep this late,” Galahad told him.

“I don't think I've slept this late since,” Mordred tried to remember, “well, hangovers and withdraws aside, ever.”

Galahad made an entirety of one person who knew the extent Mordred had been lost in his own life, and Mordred hoped to keep it that way.

“It's nice,” Galahad seemed to know where Mordred's head was trying to take him, “getting to spend the late morning doing nothing.”

Mordred made a noise of agreement.

–

Guinevere showed up three minutes and seventeen seconds later – Lancelot had nothing else to focus on besides counting – with a professional-grade respirator mask in one hand and Arthur securely in the other.

“Keys?” she released Arthur and held out the other hand to Galehaut.

Galehaut moved his keys from the kitchen table to Guinevere's free hand.

“Perfect, thanks, try not to let him throw up on the floor,” she said as she slipped the mask on.

“Try not to let him what?” Galehaut tried to ask, but Guinevere was already gone.

–

Mordred had nearly fallen back to sleep when Galahad's absent-minded grazing touches hit a spot that tickled.

Mordred moved away from it on instinct – closer to Galahad, thankfully, rather than the other direction – and let out a strained giggle.

“Sorry,” Galahad didn't sound at all apologetic.

Mordred rolled over to face Galahad, mirroring the other man's position. Galahad moved is hand to Mordred's waist. Mordred moved his to Galahad's.

“It is nice,” Mordred agreed.

Galahad tilted his head forward. Mordred rested their foreheads together and let himself relax into the feeling.

–

Guinevere wasn't alone.

She should have been – she absolutely should have been – given the whole _hotel being closed_ thing.

He tightened her grip around Galehaut's keys.

“Hello?” she said, her voice muffled by the mask.

“Queen Guinevere.”

–

Despite Guinevere's advice, Arthur threw up on the kitchen floor.

“Fuck,” he said once he was finished, “fucking portals, sorry, where's...”

“I'll clean it up,” Galehaut sighed, “Lance, get some water and then both of you go sit down in the living room.”

“Sorry,” Arthur said again.

“What happened?” Lancelot asked as he moved to go get the glass of water Galehaut suggested.

“Stepping through a portal is like having every sense available to you somehow inverted,” Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Everyone reacts differently. Jenny, well, she seems to be immune to it. Yvain passed out the first time and hasn't stepped through one since. The dogs won't go near it. And I, well,” he grimaced and looked at the floor.

“Christ,” Lancelot handed him the water, “come on.”

–

Guinevere shivered despite the lack of cold in the hotel.

“Who's there?” she demanded.

She didn't have Kay's magics, Gawain's god powers, or even Galahad's...whatever Galahad's magics were. She couldn't manipulate minds, she didn't know how to handle weapons like Arthur.

But she was Queen, once, and then once again until Arthur decided to hand things over to Mordred.

She could deal with surprises without any of those advantages.

“We all are,” hundreds of voices spoke as one.

_She could deal with surprises._

–

Mordred took a deep breath.

“Mo?” Galahad felt his tension starting to build.

“I'm thinking of quitting one of my jobs,” Mordred told him, “I...I want more moments like this, and I want to be able to enjoy them without being so exhausted they barely register.”

“Oh Mordred,” Galahad tried to pull Mordred closer to him but wound up pulling himself closer to Mordred, “you could quit all of them if you wanted to.”

“From a financial point, I know that,” Mordred sighed, “but...”

Galahad frowned and nestled his head under Mordred's chin. Mordred held Galahad as tight he could.

–

Arthur curled up against the arm of one of the couches, feet tucked under him and glass of water clutched in both hands. Lancelot sat next to him, facing forward and worried.

“Sorry,” Arthur said again.

“Not your fault,” Lancelot said reflexively.

Galehaut joined them, seated himself beside Lancelot, put one arm over the back of the couch to encourage Lancelot to lean into him.

Lancelot did, twisting so he was facing Arthur, feet on the couch. Galehaut wrapped his arm around Lancelot as much a she was able to.

“Thanks,” Arthur said to Galehaut.

“Don't worry about it,” Galehaut assured him, “how are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Arthur answered honestly, “for whatever comfort I've even been able to offer anyone, which I am aware of how little that is, I would have been better over the Internet in this case.”

“Stop that,” Lancelot nudged Arthur with one of his feet, “you've always done just fine.”

“Thanks,” there was an emptiness in Arthur's voice that made Lancelot's heart hurt and Galehaut's brain panic.

–

Mordred was silent for a while, letting Galahad's steady heartbeat can calm breaths reverberate against his own.

“I've never been good at letting other people take care of me,” Mordred finally said.

“You say that like you didn't steal Agrivane's bank information so you could deposit rent money after he refused to tell you how much your share was,” Galahad pressed a gentle kiss to Mordred's collar bone.

“How??” Mordred didn't know Galahad knew.

“It was a joke!” Galahad squeaked, “Wait, you really did?”

“...yes,” Mordred admitted.

“Gods,” Galahad barely suppressed his urge to laugh, “you're always thinking of everyone else first.”

“It was conditioned,” Mordred said before he realized the words had escaped.

“You'll make a good King,” Galahad snuggled closer.

Mordred made a distressed, strangled sound.

–

Guinevere realized _all of us_ was not an exaggeration.

Every soul, every ghost of those who had built Camelot before Arthur was in the hotel.

“We were not expecting you,” they spoke as one.

“Can't say I was expecting you either,” she wondered if she needed to speak out loud or if they could read her thoughts. For her own peace of mind, she elected to keep speaking aloud, “Why are you here?”

–

“I'm not ready to be King,” Mordred's voice hitched, “I never wanted to be King in the first place, Gal, I wanted to – fuck I don't even know any more. I don't know what I was trying to do. I was angry and felt so wronged by the man who turned out to be my _father_ and wanted to find a way to quiet everything my mind wouldn't stop feeding me.”

Galahad hooked his free arm around Mordred, angled so that his forearm ran from Mordred's upper waist to his shoulder blades.

“How old were you,” Mordred was about to ask a question that had always felt like taboo, “how old were you when you started living with you uncle?”

“Fifteen,” Galahad told him, “same age you left home.”

“Christ,” Mordred sucked his teeth, “You turned out much better than I did, you know?”

“I disagree,” Galahad pulled back just enough to look at Mordred, “I absolutely, completely disagree.”

The only noise Mordred could make was a pained whimper.

–

Guinevere walked around the hotel slowly, taking in each spirit as she walked past – or, in some cases, through – them.

She decided to take the longest route possible from the lobby where she'd landed to the office, a route that just so happened to take her through every single hallways.

Most she did not recognize, a few she did, but all of them wore the same proud, defiant expression she had always seen Arthur's Knights wear. These were not nobles who flocked to their Kings for power and protection. 

These were generations upon generations of warriors who believed Camelot was worth everything they could give, even their lives.

–

Lancelot slid both his feet forward so they were tucked under Arthur's legs. Arthur removed one hand from his cup and grabbed one of Lancelot's legs, just above the ankle.

“This is about _that,_ isn't it?” Lancelot asked. Arthur nodded. “Art, there was nothing you -”

“I should have been able to protect you,” Arthur's gaze snapped to Lancelot, so intense Galehaut shivered, feeling like he was intruding on the moment.

“Art -” Lancelot tried to stop the words coming from his twice-over King.

“You were my _Champion_ and I didn't even pay enough attention to you to stop -” Arthur broke his sentence off and looked at Galehaut.

“He knows,” Lancelot managed to say, “he knew.”

“You were barely a Knight,” Arthur sounded like he'd been mentally berating himself for the entire fifteen hundred plus years, “and so, so young that you could not have understood your ability to say no.”

Lancelot shivered. Galehaut started to remove his arm from Lancelot, a silent question regarding how much and how vividly the details of what had happened were happening to him.

Lancelot wrapped both his arms around Galehaut's.

–

In front of Galehaut's office, she found Uther and Igraine. They stood like door guards, a strange thing to realize given they were, on technicalities, the last King and Queen of Camelot to die and stay dead.

“You,” Guinevere recognized Uther first, “you goddamned bastard who was willing to throw everything Camelot could have been away because that **monster** got to you.”

–

“How can you think that?” Mordred asked.

“Look at you,” Galahad said, “look at where you are, how far you've come.”

“You never,” Mordred's words felt wrong as they happened, “you never spent nights with strangers to keep from freezing on the streets. Never spent months so high out of your mind because getting the medications you needed was out of the question. Never fucked people you didn't even want to look twice at because you were starving.”

He didn't mean it in the cruel way it came out.

“No,” Galahad didn't refute the accusations, “no I didn't. And I'm not trying to say those things didn't shape who you are today.”

Mordred sniffed and gripped Galahad so hard that his arms shook.

“I didn't have anyone,” Mordred's voice was quiet, strained, “I didn't have anyone until Gawain, and that was a shitshow.”

–

“He was,” Igraine agreed with Guinevere, “and believe me, this is the first time I've seen him since my death and will be the last until Camelot finds itself in new hands again. And believe me, if he knows what's good with him, he'll keep quiet.”

Guinevere looked over Uther and saw a broken soul, barely there. A shell of the horrific man he'd been in life.

She felt good about it.

“So you know that Mordred's in charge now,” Guinevere crossed her arms over her chest, “and yet I was called Queen when I first got here.”

“It's the highest title you've held,” Igraine replied.

“Does Camelot need both a Queen and King?” she suddenly realized how complicated Camelot's legacy was.

“No,” Igraine assured her, “just two people at its helm for the sake of balance.”

Guinevere realized, too, that the ghosts that surrounded her likely knew about Mordred and Galahad.

“You,” Igraine continued, “and Arthur both will become keepers of Camelot. Never in Camelot's history has the guiding role been passed on while the King still lived, so we cannot tell you how it will play out for you, but I can tell you every last soul who's ever stood by Camelot and her King stand ready for Mordred when he needs us.”

Again, the shiver that ran through Guinevere and it wasn't due to the temperature of the air.

–

Lancelot had his legs swung over Arthur's lap. Arthur had put the water glass on the floor to hold Lancelot's legs in place. Galehaut held Lancelot as well, and let the two of them process things together.

“It felt like I'd failed you,” Lancelot admitted, “that I would not be able to protect you if I could not even refuse a woman I never wanted.”

Arthur had no idea how to make things better.

–

As Mordred let himself cry against Galahad, he realized how much he'd been holding onto, how much he'd shoved aside without understanding the depth and breadth of how it had shaped him.

“It wasn't until I'd met Agrivane again that I realized maybe there was going to be more to live than just surviving,” Mordred heard himself spilling his soul to Galahad – ever patient, never judging, and so, so present Galahad.

“I'm glad,” Galahad said, “that you were – you are – willing to do more than survive.”

“How long did it take you?” Mordred asked.

“Not long after I met my Uncle,” Galahad realized they hadn't been over this before, “which was before I left mom's for the last time. He was so excited that I existed and so thankful I wasn't anything like her. I always met him in secret, afraid that if she found out she'd do anything to keep him away from me, no matter how wrong or horrible it was.” 

“What happened to her?” Mordred asked, “If you want to. If you...if you can.”

“Well,” Galahad sighed, “turns out I have some sort of maternal curse or something because she was the same one as the first time. Not long after I regained my memories, it was like she _knew_. She showed up at my school and demanded I come home with her. Kept screaming about how I needed to pick up my destiny where I'd left off, about how she was so sorry she didn't realize I was the son she'd hoped for.”

“Fuck,” Mordred couldn't help the interruption that slipped out. Galahad nodded.

“Police took her away for evaluation,” Galahad continued, “she hung herself in the observation cell – apparently observation doesn't actually mean people are watching.”

“Gal...” Mordred would have never guessed Galahad held so much trauma so close to the surface.

“I was relieved,” Galahad went on, “The only thing I felt was relief. Maybe a little happiness once the shock wore off. My uncle became my legal guardian after that. It was her being dead that let me feel like I could carve a path for myself, really.”

Mordred wanted to take back everything he'd ever said that implied Galahad didn't know what pain was.

–

“You came here for something,” Igraine's tone sounded like she was reminding Guinevere.

“Yes,” Guinevere looked at the office door, “and it's in there.”

“Of course,” Igraine nodded, “go on, you've been gone a while.”

Guinevere unlocked the door.

–

Galehaut watched Arthur and Lancelot review and relive all the times they'd fear ed they'd failed each other as King and Champion, listened as they both poured out their regrets over what horrible fathers they'd been and how undeserving of their current father-son relationships they had, helpless to do much besides hold Lancelot.

Galehaut wondered where the hell Guinevere had gotten to.

–

Mordred and Galahad didn't know how long they laid next to each other, waiting for everything that had surged forward and tried to make itself real again to die back down.

“You know,” Mordred said at long last, “I feel like Camelot's not really back yet.”

“Oh?” Galahad didn't follow.

“We're all here, sure,” Mordred tried to explain, “but it's so disjointed. The most we've really come together was under threat of death by batshit insane Merlin. And game nights and such are one thing, but is it...is it really Camelot?”

–

The ghost of Palamedes was sitting in Galehaut's chair.

Guinevere recognized him almost immediately.

“Is the chair...does it...can you feel it?” She had a feeling the question itself was insensitive, but it had been a really, really weird quest to fetch a phone.

Palamedes laughed, the sound richer than what she'd heard from the other spirits.

“No,” he told her, “but it's good practice.”

“Practice?” Guinevere echoed.

“I'll be back soon,” Palamedes shifted to a standing position, “Camelot is building again, and what has come to pass was not the end of the need for a new Camelot.”

“This is just a hotel,” Guinevere found herself panicked, wondering if they should have rebuilt in England, if they should have a central meeting place that isn't someone's private residence.

“Camelot was never a place,” Palamedes had the audacity to smirk and raise an eyebrow at her, “Camelot is a promise, a connection between those who hold her in their souls.”

–

“Maybe it's an idea,” Galahad suggested, “rather than castles and codes and such, maybe Camelot is an idea and that's why it's survived this long.”

Mordred liked how that sounded. That, he could work from. Build from.

Use as the first blocks of becoming a King everyone desered.

–

Guinevere reached to Galehaut's desk to pick up the phone she's come for. She noticed the monitors were still on.

The hallways showed as being empty, despite Guinevere knowing they were anything but.

“If you can do me a favor,” Palamedes told her, “and I realize I am in no position to ask you a favor, but if you have to mention to anyone else that I will find my way back soon, make sure it doesn't make it back to Dinadan. Please.”

“Dinadan?” Guinevere almost laughed, “Dinadan is the last one who's going to hold any grudge or anger.”

“It's not that,” Palamedes' smirk fell into a deep frown, “Just. Please. It will make sense later. Just...don't do that to him.”

Guinevere didn't want to know what could possibly have anyone so worried about Dinadan.

“Yeah, sure thing,” she agreed to avoid asking.

–

Guinevere returned to find the three men she'd left on the couch in a sort-of pile. She could tell however Arthur had opted to keep Lancelot distracted from the hotel being closed was not by bringing his mind to a better place.

Lancelot saw her and started to move to make room for her on the couch.

“No, no,” she told them, “I'll just slip in.”

There was a shuffle of movement to allow Guinevere to sit under Lancelot's legs next to Arthur, then as Lancelot repositioned his legs so they rested across Guinevere and his heels braced themselves on the side of Arthur's thigh.

“So uh,” Galehaut tried to lighten the mood, “Guinevere, you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.”


	4. Relax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend comes to stay on the boat.

Dinadan tapped his foot while the phone rang.

“You're a bit of a bitch, you know that right?” he said as soon as she picked up the phone.

Tristan chucked a pen at him, a warning to keep it down while he was working, and also maybe don't open a phone call like that.

“Yes of course”! Dinadan sounded excited despite the opener, “Tomorrow at two? Yeah, sure. Yes, fuck, of course I want to meet your girlfriend.”

Tristan waited until he was sure the conversation had ended – the pauses were long and Dinadan seemed to be getting more excited with every word – before he asked what that was about.

“My friend,” Dinadan said as if it explained anything, “the only friend I have left from before I got my memories. She decided to tell me she's coming for a visit _tomorrow_ by booking the boat and waiting until I got the notification.”

“The boat's available?” Tristan asked.

“It's off-season,” Dinadan shrugged.

Tristan realized asking why Dinadan had been sleeping on their couch if the boat was available was probably rude, and besides his daughter seemed to adore Dinadan, so both he and Iseult were getting more sleep than usual.

–

“Did you tell him?” she asked.

“No, Izz,” she sighed, “besides, the only reason we know he's Dinadan is because we put in some serious research.”

Isolde of the White Hands sighed, a heavy thing. “It's so strange, Ellie, how we _just know_ , now, despite never having met him out first lives.”

“Hopefully Dinadan will have more answers,” Elaine of Shallot checked the zipper of her suitcase, “and besides that, I miss him terribly.”

“He sounds like a hell of a thing,” Izz grinned, “now come on, cab's waiting.”

–

Dinadan took Tristan's car instead of his own, figuring it had more room and, realistically, was much, much cleaner than his car that was old enough to order its own drink.

He waited by the United Airlines curb, cell waiting lots be damned, drumming his fingers on the wheel, engine idling.

He'd left the car seat in the back because he'd had to get the thing back in once and never wanted to have to figure it our again.

A familiar whistle snapped his attention to the doors.

He left the car running as he ran to greet them.

He was maybe a running step away from them when he realized.

They were both _of Camelot_.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

Izz hugged him tight. “I've missed you terribly,” she told him.

“You have no idea,” Dinadan squeezed her around the ribs.

–

“So uh,” Izz sat in the front and Ellie sat in the back, “catch us up.”

And so Dinadan did, including several details they could have done without.

“So we're,” Ellie did the math, “numbers twenty-seven and twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-nine and thirty if you include the two who spend more of their time in Avalon,” Dinadan corrected, “but yeah.”

“That's...amazing,” Izz appraised, “and a lot.”

“There was supposed to be thirty-one,” Dinadan's gaze flicked to the rear view mirror to gauge Izz and Ellie's expressions.

He told them about Palamedes.

He begged them not to mention anything about it to the others, not to let anyone else know how deeply wounded he still was by the loss.

“I don't want them to start treating me different,” Dinadan tried to explain why he hadn't been forthcoming with everyone else.

–

“House boat first or gate crash the main meeting house?” Dinadan asked as they stared to get close.

“House boat to drop our stuff and see what you've done with your life,” Izz said, “then return Tristan's car. Then we gate-crash.”

–

Izz let out a long, low whistle as she took in the house boat.

“It looks so, so much better than when you bought it,” she told him.

“I know right?” Dinadan's smile finally returned, “So, so worth the investment, if for no other reason than an article on the remodel is what signaled the grail trio I was here.”

“Yours is a hard face to forget,” Izz informed him, “Your eyes have always been so alive.”

“And the hair tends to look like I licked an electric fence,” Dinadan rolled his eyes.

“Which, don't think I've seen any pictures of you with your hair tied back,” Ellie told him, “It looks...so different.”

Dinadan skipped over the fact Izz had been showing her girlfriend pictures of him. He didn't want to know how he looked in any of them.

“There's a small child who thinks hair is the _best_ toy to build arm and hand strength with,” Dinadan laughed, “and despite popular belief I have a small amount of self-preservation.”

“How long is it now, anyways?” Izz asked.

“No idea,” Dinadan shrugged, “I mean, it's more out than down when it's not pulled back.”

“Take it down,” Izz told him.

He did.

Izz and Ellie almost immediately started to seperate chunks of it to straighten them out.

“Is it curly or wavy?” Ellie asked.

“Both?” It was his hair and he wasn't sure.

“If you straighten it out it's almost to the small of your back,” Izz told him, “you should let us straighten it.”

“I won't recognize myself in the mirror if you do that,” Dinadan wasn't objecting.

“Change of plans,” Izz decided, “we get a hair straightener, then drop the car off, then go gate-crash the DuLac household.”

“Yes,” Ellie agreed.

Dinadan hadn't realized how terribly he'd missed her.

–

Lancelot hadn't been expecting Dinadan to show up with two strangers in tow, and definitely hadn't expected anyone in the middle of the afternoon. He'd been headed to the basement to get fresh clothes out of the dryer, figuring this was a safe thing to to in the privacy of his own home.

Then he recognized one of them.

And that's how he was reunited with Elaine of Shallot in his underwear.

“Uh,” he faltered, “I'm caught between welcome back and Dinadan what the fuck so take your pick I guess?”

“Thanks,” Ellie stifled a giggle, “and sorry.”

“Lance?” Galehaut called from upstairs, “What's going on, Lance?”

“Call the others,” Lancelot called back, “tell them to show up as soon as they can.”

–

The members of the new Camelot all confirmed they were on their way in record time.

“Is it an emergency?” Guinevere poked her head through a portal.

“The count's gone up by two and also Dinadan's getting his hair straightened,” Lancelot told her.

“All of us will be right there,” Guinevere decided.

She showed up with Arthur, Yvain, and Yvain's three permanent dogs only a minute later.

“I'm not capable of hating you but I'm not appriciative right now,” Arthur excused himself.

“Hey, I'm conscious!” Yvain explained.

“What the hell?” Izz laughed, a nervous thing.

“Portal travel results may vary,” Galehaut explained for Guinevere.

“Oh they're so sweet,” Ellie started fussing over Lion first.

“They really are,” Yvain loved his dogs more than most people, “That one's Lion, gray one's Chase, and the one whose ears never both point up at the same time is Stardancer. It started as a joke and now it's all she responds to.

Guinevere chuckled as she recalled that long, far-too-involved-to-explain properly renaming.

“How long will it take everyone to get here?” Izz asked as she started unboxing the hair straightener.

“Uh,” Lancelot tried to think if Gawain and Bertilak were home or not, “depending on where they're coming from, at most we're looking at forty-five minutes.”

“Excellent,” Izz plugged the hair straightener in, “does anyone have a hair brush?”

–

“How much hair do you have?” Sagramore asked about twenty minutes in to watching Dinadan getting his hair straightened.

Dinadan's expression was the visual representation of the sound an interrobang was expected to make.

“It's a lot,” Izz said decisively.

“I don't think we've ever all just,” Agrivane was on his toes trying to see over everyone else, “ _watched_ something together.”

“Movies?” Ellie asked.

Everyone tried to remember and came to the conclusion that, no, they had never watched a movie together.

“Usually there's screaming,” Dinadan told them, “fun screaming, for the most part, but a lot of screaming.” He hissed as the straightener pulled harder than he expected.

Mordred looked around and realized that, yeah, this was the first time they'd all come together for something and they'd all been calm. Focused on the same thing. Not facing possible and/or probably death.

He wondered, for the first time in a while, if they all should have gotten a place together.

“So,” Izz looked around as Ellie combed out a knot at the base of Dinadan's neck, “Dinadan ran most of the main details by us, but catch us up.”

–

By the time everyone had said their piece, made sure Izz and Ellie could fall back into the roles of Isolde of the White Hands and Elaine of Shallot with as much knowledge at their disposal as possible, Dinadan's hair was almost straightened.

“I think,” Mordred tried to sound more like the King he was supposed to be rather than just as overwhelmed as everyone else, “it sounds like pulling Excalibur into the current time is what made Camelot proper rise again, and there's an undercurrent of...magic, recognition, soul bonds, I'm not really sure – that allows us to recognize our own whether or not we met the first time.”

“It's a rather reasonable explanation,” Dinadan was starting to get tired of the process, “and makes sense.”

“Holy shit Din, you have a _lot_ of hair,” Percival informed him.

“I'm hoping there's enough left by the time these two are done that I'll get to see for myself,” Dinadan said with no heat to his words.

Izz smacked him on the shoulder with the back of Lancelot's hairbrush.

“Behave,” she told him.

“I would _never!_ ” Dinadan did his best to sound scandalized.

–

It was somewhere near four in the morning by the time Izz, Ellie, and Dinadan returned to the houseboat.

Dinadan was standing in front of the bathroom mirror marveling at how different he looked.

“I know it's going to go back to normal when I shower,” Dinadan said, “but right now it's just so. Wow. It's like I'm wearing someone else's hair.”

It was just past his waist when fulls straightened, thick and shiny and the ends uneven in the way most textured hair is when it's been cut by someone who doesn't know what to do with it.

“It's so healthy,” Izz said some the boat's couch, “now, walk me through how you redesigned the boat.”

“Right,” Dinadan killed the bathroom light and joined them on the couch, “So, this used to be the bedroom.”

“That's such horrible placement,” Ellie looked around.

“It really was,” Dinadan agreed, “I basically had everything but the bathroom and kitchen gutted, moved the bedroom to the back of the boat, opened this area as much as possible to make a sort-of living room/dining are hybrid, replaced the kitchen counters with something a few inches narrower so I could but the washer/dryer stack next to the fridge and people could use them without having to do some sort of contortionist's act.

“There's a table and metal chairs on top as well, secured to the railing with bike locks – keys are hanging up just by the stairs door – for when the weather's nice so renters can eat outside of they want,” Dinadan pointed to each modification as he rambled it off.

“It looks so, so much nicer than the first time I saw it,” Izz told him. She shifted to lean against Dinadan, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you terribly,” he hugged her at an awkward angle, “I feel like such a terrible friend.”

“You were busy saving the world,” Izz said by way of forgiveness.

“I didn't do much of anything,” Dinadan mumbled.

Ellie moved to sit at Dinadan's feet.

“You're...” Izz tried to find the words, “with them and here with us, you're hiding from them.”

“I was more bard than knight,” Dinadan wasn't sure if he was explaining or defending himself, “Always the one who kept the mood up, who kept things moving, who showed up with a smile. If I'm not, if I let anything slip slip...I can't live with letting them know I fucking got Palamedes killed because I was too selfish to tell him to wait to go to the store until the morning.”

Izz took in a sharp breath, resisted the urge to let him know that wasn't what happened, that not a single bit of that was his fault.

But she knew that wouldn't help.

“After I found them again,” Dinadan knew he didn't need to say who he was talking about, “I promised myself I'd never let them out of my sight if I didn't absolutely have to. And then more and more kept showing up in groups, in pairs, and the reminded that I wasn't able to keep him safe.”

Silence.

“He was so good to me,” Dinadan whispered, “for me.”

–

Dinadan took them back to _the DuLac residence_ \- as they kept calling it – the next morning.

It seemed like everyone, dogs included, had spent the night.

“Hello puppies,” Ellie immediately began fussing over the dogs, “aren't you just the best puppies?”

Bors was still mostly asleep on the dining table.

“You live here,” Dinadan pointed out.

“There are five people in my bed,” Bors told him, “there was more room on he table.”

“You can be distressingly utilitarian at times,” Dinadan informed him, “Is everyone-everyone still here?”

“Except Kay and Bedivere,” Bors nodded.

“Right, the arm,” Dinadan didn't understand why they didn't keep an extra charger with them, given how no one's lives had leveled out yet.

“They'll probably be here soon,” Bors crawled off the table, “how'd you sleep?”

“Like shit,” Dinadan answered honestly, “but it was worth it.”

“Good,” Bors clapped Dinadan on the shoulder twice, “your eyes look less haunted.”

Dinadan narrowed his eyes into a scowl.

“You are more obvious than you realize,” Bors told him, “for me, at least. It was meant as a compliment.”

“Sorry,” Dinadan looked away.

“Already forgiven,” Bors assured him.

–

Kay started cooking breakfast for everyone as soon as he got in the door. 

Bedivere had to remove Kay's jacket, shoes, and phone in-between steps.

“God they're like an old married couple,” Ellie noted.

“Old, yes,” Bedivere was grinning, “Married, yes. But perhaps not both words together.”

“Say, question,” Izz asked Bedivere because he was closest, “what have y'all done to, you know, bond as a team rather than bond under fire?”

Bedivere thought for a moment, considered that yesterday he would have said the game nights, but something about watching Dinadan get his hair straightened last night made him realize that there was an element of _collected_ acutely missing.

“We need to do more.” His answer didn't give any real information.

Gawain and Bertilak were the next to make their way into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Izz said to them.

“It's morning for sure,” Gawain yawned, “Hey, Dinadan, your hair's still...” Gawain motioned near his own head in parallel straight lines.

“Haven't showered yet,” Dinadan shrugged, “I don't mind it but it's getting weird, honestly.”

“Thank you for humoring us,” Izz's voice was a kind thing.

“You could awlays lick a fresh nine-volt battery,” Gawain suggested.

“I could,” Dinadan agreed.

“Hang on, I've got some in the car,” Gawain said as he disappeared down the hall.

“Gawain!” Bertilak called after him, “Gawain, no!”

Bedivere's laughter woke the group in the living room.

Gawain returned at a run, Bertilak chasing him.

“Gawain!” Bertilak finally grabbed Gawain's wrist. Gawain threw a pair of batteries at Dinadan, who caught one of them. The other one hit the floor and skidded away. “Dinadan, I caution against that!”

“Caution noted,” Dinadan said right before he licked the connectors.

“Oh my god,” Bertilak raised his free hand to his face, “I don't even know which one.”

“Me?” Gawain offered Bertilak a winning smile.

“Okay, now this is the Dinadan I remember from work,” Izz laughed.

Dinadan touched his hair. “Hurt like a bitch but didn't seem to do anything.”

–

After breakfast, Ellie asked what everyone thought about taking a group vacation.

“Just to...relax,” she said, “to learn what we're all like this life when there isn't something pressing.”

Mordred mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

A clamor of everyone trying to figure out a time they could take off work together, how they're travel, and where they'd go erupted, everyone trying to be heard over everyone else.

“Somethings don't change at all,” Izz said to Ellie.

“Nope,” Ellie was smiling, though.


	5. Repeat After Me: I Need a Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a vacation.
> 
> Agrivane needs to never see another dart board in his life.

“Okay, okay,” Gaheris was standing on his chair to draw attention to him, “what if we throw a dart at a map and that's where we go?”

“Would be easier than a vote,” Kay shrugged, “now who has a map and who has darts?”

“I can get a map,” Gawain and Gaheris were looking at each other in a way that made everyone else nervous, “and then I know a place that has darts.”

–

Agrivane was standing at the throwing line for the first time in close to four years.

“I hat you a little bit,” he said to Gaheris, who was far, far away from the board.

“You'll be fine,” Gawain was also far away from the board.

Agrivane grumbled something under his breath, loosed the dart...

...and it stuck in the map.

Gawain was more surprised than Agrivane.

Elyan was the first to the map to see where it had landed.

“Guys,” Elyan looked around at the crowd, “you're not going to believe where it landed.”

“It's a little too close to where I'm assuming 'Frisco is for it to be much of a vacation,” Owen squinted.

“It _is_ San Francisco,” Elyan informed everyone.

“Kay,” Bedivere's voice was loudest. He put both his hands over Kay's to prevent any instinctive burning of the map to prevent anyone from confirming Elyan wasn't just trying to get a rise out of everyone.

The bartender whistled, loud and sharp, and everyone stopped screaming.

“Throw again,” Mordred said, “preferably someone who doesn't play darts regularly but isn't worried about hitting a person instead of the board.”

Everyone looked at Mordred.

“Fine,” Mordred removed the dart from the map.

Agrivane ceded the line with no protests.

“Told you it was a bad idea,” Agrivane muttered.

Mordred didn't line up his shot before he closed his eyes and threw.

Elyan barely got out of the way.

“Tuscon,” Elyan said it like Tux-On, “Arizona.”

–

Arthur and Guinevere had been in the car for a little over eight hours when they decided they needed gas, food, and to stretch their legs.

“I'm glad they all decided to walk through one of your portals,” Arthur said as he turned the engine off, “but I'm driving the car back.”

“I know love,” she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

–

Arthur had lost track of Guinevere while he was trying to decide which drink he wanted to take back to the car.

He finally decided to let her pick for him, and went to find her.

When he finally located her, the first thing he noticed was her entire body was the type of tense it only got when she was in flight-or-flight mode. The second thing he noticed was someone was standing in front of her with his arms crossed.

Arthur's fight-or-flight mode went straight to fight.

“Art, Art,” Jenny reached out to stop him, “Arthur, it's okay.”

Arthur took half a step back and looked at the man he was still more than willing to take down in the middle of the gas station.

“Ah,” he finally said, fight fading as recognition settled in, “hello. Again?”

Palamedes chuckled, “Arthur.”

–

It was another six hours to Tucson, then nearly half an hour of trying to secure keys to the rental.

“So what were you doing in the middle of nowhere?” Guinevere asked as she and Palamedes unloaded the car.

“Headed to San Francisco, actually,” Palamedes told her, “I am thankful we ran into each other.”

“You know,” she told him as she shut the trunk, “the first thing Galehaut said when I got back was I looked like I'd seen a ghost.”

Palamedes needed a minute to get his laughter under control.

“Sorry,” he didn't sound sorry at all.

–

“So,” Arthur said once all three of them were inside, “anything we need to know before Jenny portals everyone here?”

Palamedes told them about how he should have arrived with Dinadan, about how he found himself in another body a few months after Arthur handed Excalibur over to Mordred.

Guinevere told him what had happened the time she'd gone to fetch Galehaut's phone, no details spared.

Arthur waited a few moments before he trusted himself to reply.

“I wish you'd've told me sooner,” he said.

“I know,” she frowned, “It just. It was a lot and by the time I felt like I _could_ talk about it I none of the words felt right.”

“I love you,” he told her.

“I love you,” she managed a small smile, “You ready to see everyone?”

“I don't think that's something I'll ever be ready for,” Palamedes answered honestly, “but that doesn't mean I'm not looking forward to it.”

–

The journeys through the portal were, indeed, mixed results. Gawain, Bertilak, Dinadan, Elyan, and Agrivane were the only ones who were unaffected. Elyan turned out to be a sympathy vomiter.

“Oh, man,” Palamedes winced and backed up from the group, “Arthur, I see why you're refusing to take a portal back.”

Dinadan was the first to look at the owner of the voice.

“What?” Dinadan's single-word question was a strangled thing.

Palamedes nodded, a small smile playing across his face.

Dinadan vaulted over everyone else with no regard to their general state and threw himself at Palamedes, arms and legs wrapping themselves around the other man.

The world was still off-kilter for Tristan, but he had a dim sense of wonder if that was what he looked like when he saw Lancelot for the first time this life.

“Mordred,” Izz was the next to recover, “it looks like you picked the right place.”

“There is no right place if arriving feels like this,” Mordred whined, “Why, what's happening?”

“Everyone,” Arthur already had a mop and mop bucket ready, “you remember Palamedes, right?”

–

Once the initial chaos died down and Palamedes caught everyone up on what was going on, Kay's first instinct had been to get stronger cleaners and scrub the floor.

“Kay, no,” Arthur tried to block his way with the mop, “it can be a group effort. You start now and you're not going to get to enjoy your vacation.”

“Art,” Kay tried to sidestep the mop, “Art, I will dump the mop bucket on your head.

“Kay,” Art was undeterred, “I know you. Someone?”

Gaheris grabbed one of the decorative pillows off the couch and chucked it at Kay. It hit him on the side of the head.

Gaheris had never, in the entire history of his existence, landed a hit on Kay before. He froze, unsure of what to do next.

Everyone froze.

Elyan realized this might be his only chance to ever land a hit on Kay, so he copied Gaheris' move.

Kay's expression shifted from shock to bewilderment to a deeply disturbing glee.

“OUTSIDE!” Lancelot bellowed, “This house doesn't belong to any of us and there's a steep damages fee!”

Kay took one step towards Gaheris, who sprinted for the back door. Elyan was on his heels.

Kay gave chase.

“Poor kids,” Bedivere shook his head, “never stood a chance.”

“Two against one hardly seems fair,” Bors watched them run, “I'm going to even the odds.”

“I'm calling it now, he's also going to try to land a hit on Kay,” Bedivere took the mop from Arthur, “rest of you, water then go sit down somewhere that doesn't need to be gone over with some diluted bleach or something.”

–

Kay was wielding the handle of the pool skimmer like a flimsy quarterstaff.

“How is he so fast?” Elyan called across the yard to where Gaheris was trying to find additional projectiles that didn't stick themselves to their palms.

“You didn't train with him,” Bors had no fear of the thorns everything seemed to come with, “this is his normal speed.”

“I don't normally feel fear from words alone,” Elyan called to his father, “but I'm willing to make an exception for that.”

Kay deflected what looked like a piece of cactus Bors threw at him.

“How is that skimmer holding up?” Gaheris asked.

“Pure, stubborn spite,” Kay told them.

–

“Oh my shit they really can't land a hit on him,” everyone else had arranged themselves so they were gathered around the back doors. Someone had made popcorn and the bowls were being passed around.

“I know I used movies as an example of low-stress bonding things,” Ellie said, “but I think this is a little more effective.”

“I haven't seen Kay act like this since,” Bedivere paused for half a beat, “since before my accident.”

“Well I have a wild guess you don't throw things at him for fun,” Lamorak pointed out.

“Guess is correct,” Bedivere nodded, “Holy shit, he's really got them beat.”

“How many do you think would need to go against Kay before he couldn't keep up?” Ragnelle asked.

“With or without his magic?” Arthur asked.

“Both,” Ragnelle was curious.

“Without, probably half of us,” Arthur said.

“With,” Bedivere laughed, “we'd all be flattened.”

–

They ordered dinner to avoid trying to figure out how to get food and cook it without eating so late someone tried to eat raw chicken or anything equally questionable.

The house was only meant for fourteen people, but they weren't shy about cramming air mattresses in places meant to be walkways.

“So,” Gareth said around a mouthful of food, “Palamedes. Are you set for a week here?”

“I am,” Palamedes swallowed his bite before he responded.

“We can pick up another air mattress tomorrow if that's alright?” Lancelot asked.

“No rush, no rush,” Palamedes assured them.

Dinadan hadn't left Palamedes' side all night. He was subdued, near shock, and quite frankly had everyone a little worried.

“Who brought something to swim in?” Gawain tried to keep the conversation going.

It turned out almost everyone had.

“We're going to have to swim in shifts or something,” Isolde looked around.

“Or just surrender to the chaos,” Lionel suggested.

“So uh,” Palamedes realized he had no idea why they were there, “what plans do you have?”

“Oh,” Percival was the first to make a sound, “Well. Uh. Mordred threw a dart at a map and we haven't gotten much further than that.”

“Taking my first vacation in close to a decade,” Mordred said.

“We only have two cars,” Yvain pointed out, “so we're either going to have to do a lot of walking or play the human version of Tetris to go anywhere.”

Palamedes watched the conversation turn to anarchy and wondered who was going to suffer heat stroke before the week was up.

–

Lamorak was convinced everything weird that was ever going to happen to him for the rest of his life was going to happen at McDonalds.

“Uh,” Agrivane nudged him, “are you going to order?” 

“There's a fucking dinosaur outside and you're focused on ordering?” Lamorak asked.

“It's,” Agrivane finally let himself stare at the thing, “okay, yeah, it's definitely there.”

“I feel like if I go take a picture of it I'm just going to make it very clear I'm a tourist,” Lamorak said.

“I think you've made that clear by how long you've been staring at it,” Agrivane pointed out while ignoring the fact that he, too, was staring at the thing. 

Lamorak wondered if he should just swear off McDonald's for life. If, by banishing the fast food giant from his life, he might be able to begin finding some form of predictability.

“I'm going to climb it,” Agrivane decided.

Lamorak wasn't sure if he should stop him or not.

–

Lancelot wasn't sure why he'd let Kay and Bedivere talk him into taking Palamedes' car to go on a two-day desert hike, and he was even less sure why he hadn't tried harder to convince Galehaut to join them.

Ragnelle, Bertilak, Elyan, Lamorak, and Galahad had all decided they wanted to come, though, so eight people rode in a car that was listed as a five-seater but really should only have had four people at most in it served as their transportation.

Still, as he watched the sun set he found he couldn't find much to complain about. Sure, he was woefully unprepared, his legs may take weeks to forgive him, and he wasn't aware the desert got so cold nonetheless so fast, but the sunset was stunning.

Kay, he decided, had lost him mind somewhere along the line and was just good at hiding it.

Sleeping outside, in a strange desert, however, was a bit of a tip-off.

–

Somewhere along the line, someone had secured an oversized beach ball and several pool toys that were meant to be used as a 'throw them, let them sink to the bottom, and go retrieve them' sort of more focused activity.

Instead, a game where two teams stood on opposite sides of the pool and tried to cause the other team to let the ball touch the water first while also hurling projectiles evolved, a sort of bastardized, high-impact netless volleyball game.

This round saw the five Orkney brothers taking on Yvain, Bors, Sagramore, Ellie, and Izz.

The game went until one team scored five points or someone managed to scrape themselves on the sife of the pool again.

It was tied as three-three when Agrivane just barely missed the ball.

The other team whooped. Agrivane growled out his frustration and splashed at nothing.

“Hey,” Gawain suggested, “take your t-shirt off if you want to move a bit faster. It's weighing you down.”

Agrivane hesitated.

“If it's sunburn you're worried about it's at least a little overcast?” Gawain misread the hesitation.

Agrivane shed the shirt and chucked it to the poolside.

“Alright,” Agrivane tossed the ball to Gareth, “Three-four, Gareth serving, ready?”

“Ready!” Izz called back.

Gawain's heart dropped to his stomach as he realized how little he actually knew his brother.

Gareth spiked the ball to the other side of the pool.

–

Bertilak was thankful he could also open portals, despite their being much less smooth of a trip for non-divine travelers.

“Hey,” he surprised Arthur and Percival in the kitchen, “do we have a first aid kit?”

“What's wrong?” Arthur asked as the same time Percival said, “Yeah, let me get it.”

“Long story short Lancelot's stuck on a cactus,” Bertilak said as Percival handed him the kit, “and it's pronounced suh-waa-row. The g's silent.”

“What the fuck?” Percival asked as the portal closed.

“Well it figures it's not like octopus with three correct pluralization,” Arthur said absently.

“No the fuck it doesn't,” Percival refused to believe that was a fact.

–

It took four days to convince Dinadan to leave the house, but Palamedes eventually coaxed him out with the promise of dessert ad some time alone.

“I'll be honest, I was expecting something more like a smoothie,” Dinadan poked at his dessert with a fork, “but I'm not at all disappointed.”

Palamedes had asked Izz to find somewhere they wouldn't find back in San Francisco, knowing full well Dinadan was in shock and trying to ignore it. A change of scenery, something completely novel, to start getting Dinadan out of his own head.

Even if Eegee's had an unreasonable amount of vowels in it.

“I'm a little surprised you didn't get the monthly flavor,” Palamedes told him.

“I just kind of let me mouth do the ordering,” Dinadan shrugged.

They walked down the street slowly, Dinadan almost hyperfocused on his treat. Palamedes let him finish before he tried to start a conversation again.

“Dinadan,” Palamedes' voice had an edge to it that noted they absolutely needed to talk.

“They had me identify your body,” Dinadan said without preamble.

Palamedes had no idea – he'd managed to get a little information from Izz. 

Dinadan hadn't told her, either, he realized.

“I'm sorry I left you alone,” Palamedes meant it.

“You think I'm upset with you?” Dinadan stopped walking.

Palamedes stopped and faced him, but waited for Dinadan to keep talking.

“Fuck, no, it's,” Dinadan took a deep breath, “It was my fault, I was selfish, too ready to have every want and whim met. We knew we lived in a dangerous neighborhood. We didn't go our past ten alone for a reason. And I just. Fucking let you go. Didn't even try to talk you out of it.

“I missed you, you know? Every fucking day I've been back with the others I've been _terrified_ of leaving them alone, letting them out of my sight. I don't even sleep in my own boat because I don't want to be alone, don't wan to not be around if something happens,” Dinadan wasn't aware he was shaking.

“I'm sorry,” Palamedes put a cautious hand on Dinadan's shoulder.

Dinadan managed a small, sad smile and a huff. “You've always been patient with me.”

“You deserve patience,” Palamedes told him.

–

Agrivane was back in the pool well after everyone else had gone to bed.

Lamorak would be back some time the next day, and he needed to get out of his own head.

He decided using the pool toys for their intended purpose was a good way to go about it.

Gawain joined him.

“Hey,” Gawain said as Agrivane surfaced.

“Hey,” Agrivane echoed.

“I'm horrible at talking,” Gawain said.

“I know,” Agrivane knew that all too well, “You're disappointed with me?”

“No,” Gawain had promised himself he'd have a regular conversation – not for the Orkney brothers, but for the average person. He would, at the very least, resist his natural tendency to scream the instant things ventured into unfamiliar territory. “Disappointed with myself.”

“Why?” Agrivane asked.

“I realize I know nothing about you,” Gawain hated saying it out loud, “Or Mordred. Or Gareth. Or Gaheris. I know all four of you are alive and here and Mordred's also a chronomancer and now King, but,” Gawain took a breath, “I don't know what any of you like to do in your spare time, or what music any of you but Gareth listen to,” both brothers chuckled, “The point is, I've been so angry about everything since all this started, since I regained my memories, that I've set myself apart to try to keep from getting hurt and it's had the exact opposite effect.”

It felt less horrible to say aloud than he'd expected.

Agrivane pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the pool and patted the concrete, telling Gawain to join him.

–

On day seven, Dinadan took Palamedes to Eegee's.

“I figure we could go again,” Dinadan told him, “and see what it tastes like now that I'm feeling more like myself.”

–

“Hold still,” Isolde hissed at Lancelot.

“Sorry,” Lancelot snapped.

“How on _earth_ did you manage to get so much of you taken off by a cactus?”

“First of all, there were several,” Lancelot realized defending himself was a futile effort, “and second, no idea.”

“They really just tore into him,” Ragnelle was hovering in the doorway, “Bertilak and Kay patched him up as best they could, but yeesh. You see the damage.”

“I can't tell if I'm impressed or horrified,” Isolde shook her head.

“Horrified,” Lancelot answered for her, “absolutely horrified.”

–

“So uh,” Arthur and Percival cornered Bertilak, “what happened?”

Bertilak had to reign his laughter in before he answered them.

“He was arguing with Elyan over how to pronounce the name of those big fuckers and he just. Walked right off the trail and into a bunch of smaller, more spiky fuckers,” Bertilak told them.

“I shouldn't even be surprised,” Arthur shook his head.

For the first time, Percival was thankful his leg prevented him from doing anything, because he could absolutely see himself in Lancelot's position if he had been able to join them on the hike.

–

Tristan was in the middle of teaching his daughter how to swim when Lion jumped in the pool.

His first instinct was to hold his daughter close to him and above the water. Lion swam over to them and his daughter giggled and clapped her hands.

“Shit, sorry!” Yvain was at the edge of the pool, “I did not expect him to do that. Lion! Out of the pool!”

“Wait,” Tristan lowered his daughter back into the water, “she doesn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, really.”

“If you're sure?” Yvain asked, “He's normally more. Well. Predictable, I guess.”

“Lion,” Tristan called the dog's name. Lion swam over to him. His daughter reached out and grabbed two chunks of fur and held tight.

“Uh,” Tristan realized how little exposure to animals he'd given her, “Sweetie, don't hurt the dog.”

“See if she'll hold on to his collar,” Yvain suggested, “if she absolutely refused to detach herself from him.”

Tristan followed his advice.

He would up holding his daughter up while she used Lion as a buoyancy device and Lion paddled around the pool. She babbled to Lion while Lion made happy, low noises back at her. Tristan was absolutely delighted.

“This is probably not recommended in parenting books,” Isolde remarked as she joined them, “but she looks like she's having the time of her life.”

“She seems to be a dog person,” Tristan noted.

“I'm always so scared they're not going to know how small she is,” Isolde said, “Not just your dogs, Yvain, but dogs in general.”

“How old is she now?” Yvain realized he'd lost track.

“Two years,” Isolde said at the same time Tristan said, “Twenty-four months.”

“Tristan!” Isolde scolded him, “We are not going to keep doing that!”

Tristan didn't even bother looking apologetic.

Yvain did the math and realized Lynette and the others had been in San Francisco for almost a year now.

“It's flown by,” Yvain said aloud, “everything has just flown by.”

“Which,” Tristan said, “so has this trip and I am rather hoping we can get her down for a nap just before we have to leave.”

“She slept right through the portal last time,” Isolde agreed.

“We should see if some of the vomiters can sleep through it,” Tristan suggested.

“Well now I have an unfairly vivid mental image of everyone trying to figure out who's going to carry who through,” Yvain informed him.

–

Only the toddler was carried through the portal.

“At least it's not carpet,” Dinadan said as he waited for everyone else to get themselves together.

–

Back on the houseboat, Izz and Ellie laid out on the top deck as if they could see the stars.

“All in all, very successful vacation,” Ellie appraised, “bit of a shitshow around the edges.”

“They don't know how to act like people,” Izz added, “both around each other and in general.”

Ellie made a noise of agreement. “It seems like they're willing to learn, though.”

“Seems it,” Izz grabbed Ellie's hand, “Do you think they're going to take another vacation on their own volition or do you think we're going to have to remind them?”

“Mordred said that was his first vacation in years,” Ellie recalled, “so I think they're going to have to be reminded to take care of themselves in general.”

“Even Dinadan,” Izz didn't bother to hide the sadness in her voice, “I wish I had gone with my instinct about him not being as fine with things as he claimed he was.”

“You could see if any ohspitals in the area are in need of an ER doctor,” Ellie suggested.

“And just uproot our lives and move across the country?” Izz asked, “Yeah, I'll start applying.”

“Good,” Ellie rolled over to kiss her on the temple, “Home isn't a place, after all.”

“Yeah, though I may insist we get a more permanent dwelling with a foundation built into the ground,” Izz laughed.

“To the future,” Ellie rolled back onto her back, free arm outstretched to the sky.

“The undiscovered country,” Izz added reflexively.

“Nerd,” Ellie barely got the word out before they both dissolved into giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octopuses, octopi, octopodes


	6. What Happens in Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad's means are unconventional, but they work for him. Mordred's own well-won habits are brought into the spotlight so subtly he barely notices.

Mordred prided himself on being able to get by with the bare minimum. He'd lived through the _pulled on these bootstraps so hard that they broke_ phase. He'd survived things he would only speak of to Galahad – and maybe Agrivane – but even then in moment of weakness.

He'd clawed his way from a life that killed most people and then found how he could survive.

He'd done better than that, even, finding family and love and while he still wasn't able to look the whole King title in the proverbial eye yet, there was that, too.

Still, he'd be lying if he tried to convince himself the bed wasn't the most comfortable thing he'd ever laid on.

And he was going to be here for two weeks.

“Mo?” Galahad asked from beside the bed.

“I think this bed is my favorite already,” Mordred said.

He'd never accompanied Galahad on any of his stints to one of the world's gambling meccas – work usually prevented him, but he also found it a little intimidating.

But Galahad succeeded in talking him into working one job and spending more time at home less than a month ago.

Since then, Mordred found himself talked into things with a lot less resistance.

Galahad chuckled and nudged Mordred over so he could lie next to him.

“Do you always stay in rooms like this?” Mordred asked, “I think this is bigger than our apartment.”

“It is, and no, I don't” Galahad told him, “In the past, I was usually with Bors and Percival, so we got rooms that we could sleep in and not much else. Then the past three years it's just been me, and well, you know how well I sleep alone.”

“You don't,” Mordred rolled himself on top of Galahad so they were back-to-back. Galahad let out a few noises of protest but made no move to shale Mordred off. “What's different this time.”

“You're here,” Galahad told him, “and while there are plenty of things to see and do in Vegas I have a suspicion I'm going to be seeing the inside of this room quite a bit during the day.”

Mordred chuckled and rolled off of Galahad.

–

“Do the others know?” Mordred asked on the second morning.

“Bors and Percival do,” Galahad started with the obvious, “Lancelot and Galehaut _know_ but I don't think they really think about it. Other than that, I have no clue. No one's ever asked and I think they assume I am also an MMA fighter.”

“You did kind of sleep through everyone's job introductions,” Mordred recalled, “but yeah.”

“To be fair,” Galahad was still under the covers, “I have no idea what Gawain, Bertilak, or Dinadan do to afford living.”

“Pretty sure Gawain and Bertilak have some sort of gods' waiver,” Mordred was rooting through his bag to find clothes for the day, “Dinadan I think makes all his money from the AirBnB?”

“He and Palamedes have been living on it non-stop since Ellie and Izz got a place,” Galahad pointed out, “though I also do not know what Palamedes does?”

“Photo editing,” Mordred told him, “Pays well but he says it's monotonous.”

“How did I miss that?” Galahad was watching Mordred start his morning.

“It happened really fast a few game nights ago and I think you were in the bathroom,” Mordred told him.

“Go figure,” Galahad rolled his eyes, “But yeah, no idea if the others know and just don't ask, or don't know at all.”

“Still wild that you spend two weeks somewhere and the other fifty set,” Mordred shook his head.

“I'd feel bad about it if it was taking money from people,” Galahad said as he stretched, “but these are institutions built up around making people feel good about losing money. I don't feel bad about taking from them.”

“More Robin Hood than Camelot,” Mordred teased.

“Perhaps,” Galahad grinned, “were that I was giving it to the people and not my King.”

–

Mordred was bored.

He knew Galahad told him that he was free to find something to do in the event he woke up before he got back, but it was one thing to know he was free to wander as he pleased and another to _actually go wander around a strange city in the middle of the night._

Mordred had heard of several cities that tried to contend for being the one that never slept, was always busy, whatever catch phrase they wanted to use to set themselves apart, but Vegas?

Vegas stood as a monument to the hubris of mankind. A monument with a lot of lights, sounds, and brightly colored people.

He watched people and buses and even, at one point, what looked like a horse parade move up and down the strip from their hotel window.

He'd mostly slept through Galahad leaving the room somewhere close to midnight. Galahad woke him up to tell him he's be back before breakfast and Mordred hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

–

Galahad had these trips down to a formula.

Two different venues per day, always aim for a series of smaller wins he wouldn't have to claim on his taxes, and keep his eyes down.

At the end of the night, exchange his winnings for as many large bills as possible.

Take a different route back to the hotel than he'd taken when he left the hotel.

The sun was starting to come over the horizon and he was _exhausted_. His suit was heavy and his tie was too tight.

He couldn't wait to have the hotel room door shut behind him so he could go back to just being Galahad.

–

Mordred nearly pounced on Galahad the moment he got in the door.

“Mnm,” Galahad let Mordred support his weight, “Did you miss me?”

“Always,” Mordred held Galahad up while Galahad unlaces his shoes, “Also, you look absolutely fantastic, holy fuck. I don't think I've seen you in a suit since Kay and Bedivere's wedding and I did **not** appreciate it properly then.”

“I think we were all a little distracted,” Galahad began undoing his tie. Mordred moved to help. Galahad let him.

“Do you ever worry,” Mordred asked, “when you're out like that?”

“All the time,” Galahad admitted, “but I'm pretty unassuming. Just another young blond guy alone and unable to sit in one place for long, looking play a few rounds of cards. It goes a long way.”

“Unassuming my ass,” Mordred finished removing Galahad's tie. Galahad grinned, a sleepy thing. “Trouble is what you are.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Galahad teased.

Mordred knew Galahad was going to be asleep before he made it to the bed.

–

Two weeks went by impossibly quickly.

Mordred supposed he should have expected it, given how fast things seemed to be happening in general at this point in his life – he'd already been living with Galahad for three and a half years at this point, which meant Galahad had been in San Francisco for a little over four years.

Still, he was going to miss the mattress, and he told Galahad as much as they waited for their plane.

“We can go mattress shopping,” Galahad offered.

“That would be mattress number four for me in six years,” Mordred replied. When Galahad didn't say anything, he continued, “Don't mattresses have, like, a twenty year warranty?”

“Usually only five or ten,” Galahad told him, “and they're generally more dust mite carcasses than mattress before the warranty is void.”

“Oh god why would you tell me that?” Mordred blanched, “I think I would have been happy never knowing we're going home to sleep on dead bugs.”

“Why do you think I insist on both replacing the mattress protector recently and also vacuum the mattress weekly?” Galahad asked. Mordred shuddered.

“If you're just saying this to make me feel better about buying a new one I'm going to be upset,” Mordred cautioned.

“I wish I was making it up,” Galahad couldn't repress a shudder of his own.

And so, Mordred agreed to go mattress shopping when they got home and got back to their more regular sleep schedules.

–

Mordred slept through all of his alarms the first morning after they got their new mattress.

–

“So uh,” Mordred flopped down on the couch when he got home from work that night.

Galahad was beside him in an instant. “I know that uh, that's a bad one.”

“What you said a while ago,” Mordred was still in his work uniform, “about being able to quit all my jobs.”

“Meant it,” Galahad told him, “What happened?”

“I spent two weeks in Vegas with this absolutely wonderful man and no one so much as raised their voice at me,” Mordred looked at Galahad pointedly, “and I get back and show up to work late for the first time in my life and get screamed at in front of an entire store full of customers and I got to wondering why I let anyone treat me like that.”

“So did you quit?” Galahad asked.

“Not yet,” Mordred sighed, “I wanted to check with you first, and I guess I'm not used to _not_ , you know, providing for myself.”

Mordred flopped over to lean on Galahad and promptly buried himself in Galahad's side.

“I've got you,” Galahad assured him.

“And you won't,” Mordred paused, “you won't resent me if I can't pay for things?”

“Oh fuck no,” Galahad did his best to temper his reaction.

“And not just because I'm, King or whatever I'm supposed to be doing?” Mordred asked.

“I _love_ you,” Galahad said as plainly as he could, “and I want whatever you do with your life to be things you want to do. Things you're _happy_ doing. We're in a unique position that, hell, I don't think anyone at Camelot except, like, Dinadan with whatever he's doing with his life is in. But no. Or yes. Or, well, I keep offering to support you because it's what I **want** to do.”

“I'm terrible about talking about money,” Mordred mumbled.

“Everyone has to be terrible at something,” Galahad's reply was near-reflexive, but it got a chuckle out of Mordred.

–

Mordred quit over the phone the next morning and crawled back into bed.


	7. Games, Games, Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pictionary is un-banned in the DuLoc household.

Lancelot hit 'send' on the mass text trying to coordinate a more formal game night before he proofread it. He locked his phone and set it down on the counter before returning to the paperwork he'd been putting off.

“Honey?” Galehaut called from the next room over, “Why is the game night tomorrow?”

“Fuck,” Lancelot put his head on the table.

–

“So uh,” Galahad called Lancelot instead of texting him, “we're all for game night tomorrow but what are we playing and should Mo and I bring any games?”

He didn't tell Lancelot he was on speaker, or that he was over at the rental house so Mordred and Gareth could catch up a bit.

“Bring whatever you want,” Lancelot told him, “though the six-pack seems to be intent in playing Pictionary.”

“Oh!” Galahad exclaimed, “I don't think I've played Pictionary since I moved here!”

“There's a reason for that,” Lancelot sighed, “but I'm pretty sure there's a dry erase board somewhere around here still.”

“It'll be fun,” Galahad wanted so, so badly to find out what had Pictionary banned but not Monopoly.

“See you tonight,” Lancelot sighed.

“Love you dad,” Galahad said.

“Love you, too, kid,” Lancelot replied before ending the call.

“Six-pack,” Ragnelle laughed, “Oh, I had no idea we had a name.”

Galahad chuckled, “I don't think he realizes how much dad energy he has.”

“Oh my god that is a dad-energy thing to say,” Ragnelle was still laughing, “I'm ordering a door sign that says _Home of the Six-Pack._ ”

“Ask for it for Christmas,” Galahad suggested.

“I'm going to go tell the others,” Ragnelle left Galahad alone at the kitchen table.

–

**From: Dinadan 1:53 AM  
It's Pictionary tonight**

Tristan rolled over, grabbed his phone, read the text, and went back to sleep.

When he formally woke up, Isolde read the identical text Dinadan had sent him aloud and said, “Well I guess we need to hire a babysitter.”

“Oh god,” Tristan groaned, “Yeah. Yeah we do.”

“We could ask if Yvain is bringing the dogs,” Isolde suggested, “Lion'll watch her in the kitchen to keep her out of the main arena.”

“God that dog's a better babysitter than people,” Tristan agreed, “Yeah, better plan, but we need to call him now-now because if he isn't then we're going to need to scramble.”

“I like how _staying home with our child_ isn't an option in this,” Isolde was already pulling up Yvain's number.

“And miss a reenactment of The Whoops All Dicks Pictionary?” Tristan was also pulling up Yvain's number.

–

**From: Izz 7:46AM  
Everyone seems to be a little too excited about Pictionary**

**From: Palamedes 7:53 AM  
I can't get Dinadan to explain it to me without laughing so hard he basically stops breathing**

**From: Ellie 8:14 AM  
Izz's in the shower but wants you to know she's now in on the Pictionary Hype **

–

Galehaut found the dry erase board in their attic storage. It was covered in cobwebs and needed some careful hammering before they could get it to stand on its own.

“This is the worst idea I've ever had,” Lancelot declared as they stepped back to see if it would fall over after a few minutes.

“At least the brothers have stopped throwing each other,” Galehaut tried to make it sound better.

–

“Should we bring food,” Lamorak suggested.

“Trust me,” Gaheris was sitting on the back of the couch, “if anything gets eaten tonight Lancelot and Galehaut are going to have it banned to at least two rooms away from where ever we're playing.”

Lamorak made a disbelieving noise.

“We can pick up some pizza and stuff,” Agrivane suggested, “but yeah, it's. Yeah.”

“What _happened?_ ” Lamorak asked.

Gaheris and Agrivane looked at each other for a few beats before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

–

**From: Lancelot 3:21 PM  
Can someone please pick up dry erase markers?**

Lancelot checked his phone and sighed.

“No one's replied,” he told Galehaut.

“Well worst-case scenario we send someone back out to get some,” Galehaut said, “but I have a feeling they're all thinking they'll just pick some up on their way here and forgetting to reply.”

“Somehow that's worse,” Lancelot shook his head.

–

There were twelve cars in the Du Lac driveway and fifteen packs of dry erase markers on their kitchen table.

“Also, I brought paper towels,” Galahad put a three-pack on the table, “and it smells like someone brought pizza.”

“Thank those three,” Arthur gestured vaguely towards where Lamorak was and hoped Agrivane and Gaheris would be indicated by proxy.

“Thanks!” Galahad called.

“Pizza's in the dining room, Pictionary's in the living room, tiny child and the dogs will be in the kitchen,” Izz told them, “and, uh, this is just embarrassing at this point but I've never heard _any_ of you call the tiny child by name and I've been too afraid to ask.”

Isolde stiffled a laugh and told her, “Her name is Ingrid.”

Izz looked it up. “You named your child Fair?”

Isolde didn't even try to look apologetic.

–

There had been brief debate of breaking everyone into teams before _everyone for themselves_ was determined to be the more entertaining option.

Lion was lying down in the kitchen, gently playing with Ingrid while Chase and Stardancer circled the table, trying to see if they could snag any leftovers.

Bedivere volunteered to go first. He took one look at his card and asked, “Can we do some charades in addition to drawing?”

“The only technical rule is no words,” Dinadan pointed out.

“Sure,” Galehaut said.

“Sweet,” Bedivere's grin was feral.

“Alright, and go!”

Bedivere held up five fingers, then flashed five fingers again.

“Five words, fifth word,” Bors said.

Bedivere nodded and pointed to his prosthetic and then drew something that looked like it might be a glass or jar or other type of container with a negative ion charge symbol in front of it.

“How the hell do you take jam out of an arm?” Owen asked.

“Something charged down!” Gawain guessed.

“Oh!” Kay's face lit up, “Electric!”

Bedivere nodded.

Dinadan took a moment and went, “How the hell is that mayo?”

“Mayo-electric,” Arthur said under his breath, “that's just not fair.”

“I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC!” Guinevere shouted before Bedivere started drawing again.

“Yes!” Bedivere pointed at her.

“HOW OLD IS THIS GAME??” Galahad demanded.

–

Ingrid was between Lion's front legs, one hand in his mouth. Lion was letting out playful sounds, gently raising and lowering one paw just shy of her.

Ingrid giggled and scooted closer to him.

Isolde watched, very aware but relaxed.

“At some point we've going to have to teach her how to interact with a normal dog,” Tristan told her.

“I think she knows,” Isolde said, “Watch what happens when either of the other dogs come back in.”

They watched for a minute, ignoring the screaming going on around them.

Chase plopped down next to Lion and put his head down so Ingrid could pat him on the muzzle. She did so and then immediately returned her hand to Lion's mouth.

“Lion likes his teeth messed with,” Yvain told them, “but yeah, little weird how in-tune with the dogs she is.”

“I really, really need to socialize her with other animals to be sure,” Tristan decided.

“Oh my god,” Isolde watched Stardancer drop a piece of pizza between Lion and Ingrid, “Did she just?”

“My dog just gave your daughter a piece of pizza,” Yvain said so loudly the game came to a halt.

“What's going on?” Palamedes asked.

Isolde gestured towards the dogs and her daughter.

“I think we just found a pack of babysitters,” Tristan breathed.

“We'd still have to have a human present,” Isolde pointed out, “I don't want to come home to find what happens when dogs try to change a diaper.”

Tristan got up to cut the pizza into small bites for Ingrid.

–

“QUESTING BEAST!” Lancelot shouted.

“Yes!” Bors capped his marker and threw it at Lancelot.

“HOW IS THAT NOT A GIRAFFE??” Tristan cried.

“What did you think the questing beast WAS?” Palamedes asked.

–

“Yeah, no,” Agrivane had his arms crossed and mouth pulled into a tight frown, “definitely a dick.”

Gawain's timer had run out and all anyone had been able to guess was penis-adjacent.

“Oh my god,” Lamorak realized, “Alice's adventures in Wonderland?”

“Fuck, thank you, yes,” Gawain dropped the marker.

“That's a forest of dicks, Gawain,” Bertilak informed him.

“It's mushrooms!” Gawain threw his arms up.

“You know what mushrooms look like!” Bertilak argued.

“I have the artistic talent of a toddler!” Gawain tried to defend himself. Lion barked once, loud and sharp. “No offense, Ingrid!”

Lion let out what sounded like a rumble of warning forgiveness.

“I think you two produced some sort of animal goddess,” Yvain informed them.

“Let's just get her to grade school first before we start debating divinity,” Tristan rushed to say.

–

About three hours in, they gave up looking at cards and started to go with drawer's choice. When the decision was made, it seemed like the least dangerous road forward.

“SNOW FALLING ON CEDARS!” Gareth shouted. 

Gaheris had only made a cluster of dot marks on the top of the board.

Gaheris tossed the marker, uncapped, to Gareth.

“I'm both impressed and horrified,” Lionel informed them.

–

The game was officially brought to an end around five in the morning.

Somewhere in the night, Tristan had tried to put Ingrid to bed on a twin air mattress, but she kept crawling back over to Lion and sleeping on him. He have up after the sixth try.

“Oh fuck I have to be at work in half an hour,” Kay realized, “Gareth, you too, in the car!”

They ran for the front door.

“Uh,” Bedivere watched them go, “Who has the most points? I think we can call it quits.”

“Agrivane,” Bertilak had the score chart.

“Sweet,” Agrivane was ready to fall asleep.

“I'm calling in dead today,” Ragnelle declared, “I'll be back to life in the morning.”

“Excellent idea,” Lamorak agreed.

“I'll have to ask my boss if I can come in late,” Agrivane said with a yawn.

“Your boss says you can take the day as your victory reward,” Lancelot decided.

“Best boss,” Agrivane nodded, “But uh, yeah, pretty sure my car's blocking several of yours in.”

“Come on,” Lamorak tapped him on the side, “I need you up so I can get up.”

Agrivane made several noises of protest but rose to his feet.

“I'm sleeping here,” Gaheris announced, “I'll catch up some time this evening.”

“We should do this again some time,” Izz said with a stretch.

“God help me,” Lancelot muttered.

–

“I'll drive,” Lamorak offered.

“Thanks,” Agrivane handed over the keys without protest, “You're good to drive, though?”

“Yeah,” Lamorak assured him.

“Thanks love,” Agrivane leaned over and up to give Lamorak a quick kiss on the cheek.

Lamorak's breath hitched for a moment as he realized no one had said that to him before, this life or the last.

Agrivane had the same realization.

“I mean it,” Agrivane added.

–

Arthur let Guinevere portal them back to their house.

Guinevere counted to thirty while she waited for Arthur to be ready to interact with the world again.

They were both shocked when nothing happened

“Guess I have to travel on an empty stomach,” Arthur guessed.

“Or you're getting used to it,” Guinevere suggested.

“No,” Arthur refused to believe he could ever get used to that.

Guinevere chuckled.

–

“That was fun,” Galehaut told Lancelot as they collapsed the empty pizza boxes.

“That was far less of a disaster than expected,” Lancelot almost agreed, “Mayo-electric. Christ.”

“It was clever,” Galehaut paused to give Lancelot a Look.

“It's an image I'm never getting out of my head,” Lancelot grumbled, “electrified mayo.”

Galehaut laughed, quite unabashedly, realizing he, too, would have that image for life.


	8. Day by Day, Step by Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boat's booked unexpectedly, so Dinadan and Palamedes play babysitter for a week. Galahad has some things to explain. Lamorak beats Gawain in darts.

Galahad was tugging at the edges of his alert bracelet while waiting in line, an absent thing to keep from fidgeting too badly.

“Hey,” Mordred nudged him.

“Hey,” Galahad nudged back.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mordred wasn't sure what the it was.

“One day,” Galahad shrugged.

Mordred hummed and pressed his front to Galahad's back, holding him tight and pressing lazy, chaste kisses to the back of Galahad's head.

–

Lamorak loosed his dart. It hit the middle ring, so he wasn't pleased but also wasn't disappointed.

“And you've never played before?” Gawain asked.

“Nope,” Lamorak shook his head, “can't say I've had the opportunity.” He knew Agrivane despised it but didn't know why, so he avoided it.

Today, thought, to was just him, Gawain, and Gaheris, so he let the brothers talk him into going to their favorite bar for lunch. It had been Gaheris' idea and, having nothing better to do with his lunch hour, Lamorak agreed.

It was, he figured, a good idea to spend some time with his boyfriend's brother.

Even if they hadn't really discussed their relationship. Or the terms that came with it. Or.

He stopped himself from thinking to line up his next toss.

–

“So uh,” Dinadan looked up from his phone to where Palamedes was fixing breakfast, “it looks like I forgot to block the boat off and someone's rented it.”

He waited for Palamedes to ask him how he _forgot_ to block the boat off and was so preoccupied with trying to figure out the answer he missed Palamedes' response entirely.

“Sorry, what?” Dinadan frowned.

“It's alright,” Palamedes repeated, “What do you normally do when the boat is booked?”

“Either the Du Lacs', the hotel, or crash at Tristan and Isolde's,” Dinadan told him, “But the DuLacs' is full.”

“I will stay anywhere,” Palamedes really, really would.

“Well it's no longer off-season so I'd feel a little bad crashing at the hotel,” Dinadan said, “We can see if Tristan and Isolde want Ingrid to have some time off daycare?”

Palamedes smiled, a fond thing.

–

“Hey,” Galahad said once they were back home, “I actually do kind of want to talk about it but I also would like to talk about it with Percival and Bors is that alright if I just invite them here?”

Mordred hadn't heard Galahad use such a run-on sentence before.

“Of course,” was all Mordred had to say before Galahad had is phone out and started texting.

–

Tristan handed Ingrid to Dinadan almost as soon as he and Palamedes were in the door. The toddler was half-asleep still and in her pajamas.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, “go figure I actually have to go into work this week and Iseult's on travel. I hate leaving her with strangers. Schedule's on the fridge, you know where all her stuff is, her favorite blanket's in the wash so she's a little cranky about it,” he rattled everything off, “I really cannot thank you both enough, if anything comes up, gods and saints and fair folk alike I have so much respect for single parents.”

“We'll take good care of her,” Palamedes assured him.

“Thank you,” Tristan said again, “Alright Ingrid, Uncle Din and Uncle 'Medes are going to take good care of you today. Don't let them get into too much trouble.”

Ingred made a tired, unhappy noise and reached out for Tristan's face. Tristan kissed her on the forehead, “I love you so much baby girl.”

“Bye daddy,” she said before curling back up to Dinadan.

“See you tonight,” Tristan told all three of them and then left before he didn't.

“Alright kiddo,” Dinadan told her, “let's get you dressed and then figure out breakfast.”

“CHEESE!” Ingrid screamed.

“We'll see what daddy left for us,” Dinadan told her.

Palamedes watched Dinadan and Ingrid interact, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and reflecting in his eyes.

–

“Gal?” Percival let himself in the apartment, “is everything alright?”

“Bors'll be here in a few,” Galahad told him, “I...I wanted to finally talk about the alert bracelet incident.”

“Yeah, alright,” Percival sat on the floor in front of their television set.

Mordred knew if Percival had made it then Bors was only a few minutes away.

He put a family-sized bag of broccoli with cheesy rice in the microwave.

–

Lamorak had won by three points the day before and Gawain hadn't stopped texting the brothers' group chat about it.

Agrivane was ignoring his phone.

“Hey,” Lamorak put his own phone down, “come here.”

Agrivane sat next to Lamorak on the couch and tucked his feet up so both his legs were in inverted 'V's in front of him. Lamorak put an arm around Agrivane and Agrivane let himself flop over in the same position he was already sitting in.

“It's not that I don't try,” Agrivane grumbled, “I just _can't throw a dart._ ”

“If I had known he'd get this frantic over it I would have suggested a different place for lunch,” Lamorak told him.

“I am glad you're getting on with them,” Agrivane unfurled himself to better slot himself against Lamorak, “I was a little anxious, given. Well. Everything.”

“Oh, same, absolutely,” Lamorak let out a heavy breath like he'd been holding it in. Agrivane let out a similar breath, allowing his spine to relax a bit more.

“I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong, you know?” Agrivane complained, “I hit the board once and it landed on San Francisco.”

“I could try to help,” Lamorak offered.

Agrivane was quiet for long enough that Lamorak was about to pick a different topic of conversation.

“I'd like that,” Agrivane told him.

–

Dinadan had managed to bargain Ingrid from just cheese for breakfast to scrambled eggs with cheese. Ingrid was happy with the cheese and Dinadan was thankful there was something on the list of suggested foods on her plate.

“It seems like what she can eat is fairly easy to fix,” Palamedes noted as he looked over the list, “and actually better than I see most of the Knights eat.”

“I've heard somewhere that your diet peaks when you're, like five,” Dinadan told him.

“'M two an' a half!” Ingrid told them.

“Aren't you just growing up so fast?” Dinadan asked her. She nodded and put her hand directly into her eggs.

–

“So what _happened?_ ” Mordred had long since learned direct questions were best.

“Well,” Galahad was tucked between Mordred and Bors while Percival was still sitting by the television set, “It was one of Percival's tournament fights.”

“Several days,” Percival added, “or until I was knocked out of the running.”

“I was splitting my time between the fights and the casino down the road,” Galahad continued, “so, you know, not sleeping and generally paying poor attention to how quickly days were passing.”

“He collapsed in the middle of the vendor area,” Bors picked up for Galahad, “Perc and I only found out because there was an announcement asking if anyone was traveling with someone matching Galahad's description, and if so to please come to the main check-in area.”

“We ran,” Percival was staring at Galahad, “They sent us to the nearest hospital where sure enough, Galahad was in one of the rooms being treated for low blood sugar and dehydration.”

“I hadn't realized,” Galahad curled up into Mordred, “I hadn't realized how much I'd neglected to do basic things like _take care of myself._ ”

“I made him get the bracelet,” Bors said, “with my and Percival's phone numbers on it and a hypoglycemia/fall risk warning.”

“It needed something,” Galahad interrupted, “and while I was never actually diagnosed with either, they seemed like reasonable things to put.”

“It hasn't happened since,” Percival was quick to add.

“It was maybe four or five months after my uncle died,” Galahad closed his eyes, “I was still a mess and hadn't quite gotten re-engaged with my own life. It was. It was a wake-up call.”

“I berated myself for months for not taking better care of him,” Bors admitted, “I'd promised myself if I ever found Galahad and Percival again I'd protect them from as much of the world as I could to atone for the ways I had not protected them the first time.”

“And you did a fantastic job,” Galahad and Percival said at the same time.

Hey looked at each other and tried to stifle a laugh.

Bors remembered, in moments like these, how young they still were.

Mordred held Galahad a little closer.

–

Agrivane had refused to practice in public, so Lamorak convinced him to set up a dart board in the bedroom no one was using.

The day it was delivered, Agrivane stared at the package for over an hour until Lamorak crawled back from the coffee shop of the day.

“It's here?” Lamorak guessed, “Also, hi, how was work?”

“Work was work,” Agrivane shrugged, “I am thankful they keep me around full-time but they really don't have enough to do on heir site to need it.”

“And yet you keep showing up,” Lamorak dropped his bag by the door and kicked his shoes off, “Is Gaheris home?”

“No,” Agrivane shook his head, “He's at the winery for at least the week.”

“Ooo,” Lamorak hadn't heard at all, “He's been spending more and more time there lately.”

“He likes it,” Agrivane finally stood up to greet Lamorak properly, “and it puts his business admin degree to good use.”

“Arthur and Guinevere seem to be teaching him more than college,” Lamorak hugged Agrivane and kissed him on the forehead. Agrivane made a noise of agreement.

“So, we need to set this thing up,” Agrivane said.

“I was thinking,” Lamorak started saying.

“Dangerous habit,” Agrivane teased, a reflexive thing. Lamorak snorted.

“I was thinking,” Lamorak started again, “that end-to-end the den is about as long as the starting line of dart board is while still giving us room to, you know, throw.”

“Not sure it'll fit without putting my books or computer at risk,” Agrivane pointed out.

“You could always move your bedroom,” Lamorak suggested.

“I could,” Agrivane admitted.

“God it feels so weird asking you this when you're the one whose name is on the lease,” Lamorak put his hands on either side of Agrivane's waist, “but quite specifically I meant into my room.”

Agrivane's face lit up, a joy Lamorak had never seen before shining through.

–

Dinadan finally convinced Ingrid to take a nap over an hour after Tristan's schedule said it was time for a nap.

“Phew,” Dinadan sighed as he plopped down next to Palamedes on the couch, “Toddlers, man.”

“You are good with her,” Palamedes praised.

“Thanks,” Dinadan felt his face flush a little, “I've watched her grow up, you know?”

“I've gathered,” Palamedes put an arm over the back of the couch and behind Dinadan, “still she seems to adore you.”

“She really is like my niece,” Dinadan said fondly as he leaned into Palamedes, exhausted, “Pretty sure she could burn my boat down and I'd be angry with the boat for being flammable.”

“Now **that** is love if I've ever heard of it,” Palamedes laughed.

“Hey,” Dinadan sat up to look at Palamedes, “just because I don't normally love so loud doesn't mean it's not there.”

“I did not mean it that way,” Palamedes tried to assure him. Dinadan frowned but relaxed back into Palamedes.

“I'm sorry,” Dinadan told him.

“What for?” Palamedes asked.

“I'll never be able to give you anything like this,” Dinadan felt every word trying to be the last in this particular train of thought, “Domesticity. Predictability. Anything beyond platonic intimacy.”

“Dinadan,” Palamedes felt his arm tighten around Dinadan before he realized he was doing it.

“I won't,” Dinadan said again.

“Ask me if that's what I want with my life,” Palamedes took a tone he'd never taken with Dinadan before – more abrupt, slightly wounded.

Dinadan sat up to he could read Palamedes' face for whatever the rest of the conversation was going to be. Palamedes hesitated as he let Dinadan sit up.

“What do you want in your life?” Dinadan asked.

“A second chance,” Palamedes told him, “to see if we can find our way back to where ever we left off despite all the chaos.”

Dinadan found words failing him. Palamedes put his arm back on the back of the couch and waited. Dinadan took a few deep, shaky breaths but let himself relax against Palamedes again.

“I worry,” Dinadan admitted, “about everything in general, but also that you'll get bored or frustrated or _want more_ when that's just not in the cards for me.”

“Din,” Palamedes said, voice caught between fond and distressed, “I know.”

“You know that it's not something I can just _change my mind_ over or force myself to enjoy?” Dinadan asked.

“I do not know it as you know it,” Palamedes told him, “but I know I would never ask from you what you would not willingly give.”

“But if you're not -” Dinadan tried to figure out which question to ask, “How, why?”

“I enjoy _you_ ,” Palamedes said simply, “Your company, the way your mind works, the way you notice details everyone else misses. I love your voice, the way you sing. For all I find in you, I could not see myself seeking any one else's company without comparing them to you.”

“It's a lot,” Dinadan's voice was so quiet Palamedes always missed it, “A good a lot, but still a lot.”

“May I hold you?” Palamedes asked.

“Please,” Dinadan nodded.

Dinadan was asleep when Ingrid woke up.

–

Agrivane and Lamorak had spent the rest of the day clearing out the den furniture into the spare bedroom, piece by piece. The dart lessons, they decided, would wait another day.

Agrivane woke up feeling oddly excited about maybe learning to hit a target.

“Alright,” Lamorak stood behind him, adjusting his shoulder, elbow, wrist, even fingers, “how does this feel?”

“Weird,” Agrivane wrinkled his nose.

“Weird how?” Lamorak took half a step back and Agrivane immediately dropped his elbow and made a frustrated noise.

“I just can't keep anything where it needs to be,” Agrivane complained.

Lamorak wondered if Agrivane was talking about his arm or something else, but didn't ask.

“Would you feel better if I did a couple throws and you watched?” Lamorak offered.

“Please?” Agrivane handed the dart to Lamorak.

“Of coruse,” Lamorak took the dart and started lining himself up for the shot. He walked Agrivane through the positioning, explained why each angle and joint mattered as he did.

Lamorak lined up the shot.

“And throw,” Lamorak said as he loosed the dart.

It hit the wall.

“Okay, maybe not like that,” Lamorak frowned, “fuck, this is a rental.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Agrivane laughed, “Someone who beat Gawain also missed the board entirely.”

“Maybe we need to get some thick cork,” Lamorak suggested.

They looked at each other and nodded.


	9. Oregon Wine Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Guinevere realize how old they're getting.

Gaheris checked himself in the mirror for the fifth time in even fewer minutes.

Arthur had insisted on buying him a suit that fit properly if he was going to start attending meeting with him and Guinevere, and while he absolutely saw the logic, he felt like a kid playing dress-up more than someone who was helping his former King and Queen run a winery.

As he checked the alignment of his tie, he wondered that, if he felt this put of place, how was Mordred handling being King?

–

Arthur and Guinevere spent all morning quizzing him on the ins and outs of the business side of the winery – who the investors were, who the buyers were, which buyers had exclusive labels, how taxes and forms and payroll worked, the hiring and firing process.

Gaheris knew all the answers, he knew them immediately, but the rapid-fire nature was almost overwhelming.

“What do you want on your bagel?” Guinevere asked.

Gaheris hadn't had a bagel since Isolde had made him and his brothers run laps to try to get them out of their own heads. At the apartment the toaster had been a premium time slot and by the time they'd all moved into the town house they just hadn't replaced the toaster in hopes of minimizing incidents.

“Uh,” it was the only question Gaheris didn't have an immediate answer for.

“How about we stop for breakfast on the way to the meeting?” Arthur asked.

“Get your tie and jacket on in the next five minutes and I'll think about it,” Guinevere told them. Gaheris tried not to laugh. “You can laugh at him, I do it all the time.”

Gaheris made a strangled sound, unsure if she was being serious.

–

Gaheris slept in the back seat the entire way back from the meeting.

“I think we wore him out,” Guinevere looked in the rear view mirror.

“He's handling everything so well,” Arthur praised, “I cannot imagine doing that well at, what is he, twenty-two now?”

“Give or take,” Guinevere wasn't sure, “Gods, Art, how are we getting so close to sixty?”

“Time waits for no man, King or not,” Arthur said, “Well. One man, but he's also King now.”

Guinevere rolled her eyes and took one hand off the wheel to give Arthur a playful shove.

“Do you ever think about what we're going to do with the winery?” Arthur asked, “I mean, I don't want to get old and die and leave it to the highest bidder because we didn't think about it.”

“I do,” Guinevere admitted, “though I think, if he's willing, we already have someone we could scaffold into ownership without having to worry about the future of the winery itself.” She was looking, quite pointedly, in the rear view mirror, foot off the gas to do so as safely as possible.'

“You know,” Arthur told her, “I think you're right.”

“I usually am,” Guinevere reached for Arthur's hand and squeezed it.

–

They made their offer to Gaheris over dinner that night.

“Me?” Gaheris squeaked.

“You,” Arthur nodded.

“You have excelled in every way since you started your internship,” Guinevere had more social and professional graces than Arthur, “so yes, you.”

“I'm the only one who's tried,” Gaheris said, “What if someone else is better and they just didn't try?”

Arthur could hear echoes of how Uther had raised him and his siblings, and could see how clearly it had been passed down to his nephew, and it broke his heart.

“Even _if_ they were,” Arthur told him, “you've shown at every possible turn you have what it takes.”

“We had no idea what we were doing when we started,” Guinevere told him, “and we wouldn't leave you on your own and wish you luck. We still have years left in our lives and would help you as much as you needed.”

“I,” Gaheris blinked a few times, “Can I call Agrivane?”

“Of course,” Guinevere smiled.

Gaheris didn't finish his dinner before running to grab his phone.

–

“Gaheris?” Agrivane so rarely received calls from his brothers anymore, especially during mealtimes.

“They've offered to sign the winery over to me and teach me how to run it,” Gaheris said it like it was one word, “What do I do?”

“Hang on I'm putting you on speaker because Lamorak is staring at me like he wants me to repeate everything verbatim, is that okay?” Agrivane realized he should ask instead of tell.

“Yeah,” Gaheris said, “But, yeah, they want me to run the winery. Me, Aggs! _Me!_ ”

“And?” Agrivane asked over Lamorak's excited noise that threatened to drown out both him and Gaheris.

“I want to,” Gaheris realized, “I'm terrified but I want to.”

“You said they'd teach you?” Agrivane repeated Gaheris' words to him.

“Yeah,” Gaheris' nod could be heard in his voice, “Thank you, really, I'll call you back later.”

Gaheris hung up before Agrivane could congratulate him.

Lamorak's hand twitched just above his own phone when Agrivane snapped his fingers and pointed at the errant hand.

“No,” Agrivane told him, “We let Gaheris tell everyone.”

Lamorak whined. Agrivane took both their phones and tossed them on the couch.

–

Gaheris was shaking with a mixture of anxiety and excitement when he returned tot he dinner table.

“I'd love to,” Gaheris said as he sat down, “Thank you.”

Arthur and Guinevere smiled at each other.

–

Gaheris called his brothers first.

By the time he'd gotten done telling everybody, it became clear someone, somewhere along the line had either told someone else or was in the room with someone else when Gaheris had called because people were offering them their congratulations before he could get a word out.

“We'll work on the paperwork later,” Arthur told him, “Soon, but later. For now, try to get used to the feeling.”

Gaheris nodded and tried to pretend like he could see himself ever getting used to this. It was a wonderful uncertainty coursing through him.


	10. Take Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebratory vacation is in order.

“So how are you going to celebrate?” Agrivane asked Gaheris once he got back to the townhome.

“I was hoping we could _all_ celebrate,” Gaheris said, “Like Arizona, but a little more planned and with fewer spikes.”

“Lancelot will thank you for that last modifier,” Lamorak said for the couch.

“Oh!” Agrivane realized neither of them had said anything to Gaheris, “I moved out of the den.”

Gaheris looked at where Lamorak was sprawled on the couch and said, “Well finally.”

–

Agrivane suggested the sanest way to plan a group vacation would be to pick a spot and then start a group text about it with some proposed date ranges.

He figured that, with a few exceptions, everyone either worked for the hotel or worked from home at this point, so giving those who actually had to worry about days off a few choices instead of an open-ended question was going to make the whole process smoother.

“Are you sure you aren't secretly an event planner?” Gaheris asked.

“He's just good at making sure everyone is taken care of,” Lamorak said.

Gaheris nodded in agreement. Agrivane tried to look perturbed but couldn't manage much beyond fond and thankful.

–

“I think the mountains on the other side of the country would be fun,” Gaheris told Agrivane and Lamorak a few hours later, “It's somewhere I've never been, seems to have a lot of open space, and also seems like fun.”

“Excellent, now narrow some dates down and send the text,” Agrivane approved.

–

Guinevere and Arthur booked a flight to Elizabethton Municipal Airport on the fifth of September. It was an overnight flight with a long layover that got them there on the sixth, but, as Arthur told her several times, it least it wasn't a portal.

“I only booked us tickets there,” Guinevere informed him after they retrieved their luggage.

Arthur made a near-wounded noise.

\--

It took them hours to get to the house Gaheris had found in a Craigslits ad, and Arthur got lost twice despite the GPS, but they called Lancelot as soon as they got in the door.

“Everyone ready?” Guinevere asked.

“As ready as we can be,” Lancelot confirmed, “you're on speaker.”

“Okay, it looks like there's a lot of carpet, so I'm going to bring you all in outside,” she told them, “Kitchen clear?”

“Clear,” Lancelot confirmed.

\--

“Why have we not gone outside every time?” Arthur asked while everyone else recovered, “We could just, I don't know, hose off the deck.”

Guinevere rolled her eyes. “Go find the hose then,” she told him, her tone teasing.

“I'll find the hose,” Kay declared.

“Goddamnit Kay let someone else clean for once in your life,” Arthur started chasing his brother, “Gaheris! Elyan!”

Agrivane picked up a pinecone and threw it, not expecting anything to come of it.

He clipped Kay on the ear.

“Oh holy fuck,” Agrivane covered his mouth with his throwing hand, “Lamorak, did you see that?”

“Hard to miss,” Lamorak wa salready backing away. The further from Kay he could get before Kay decided it was time for target practice, the better.

“Well,” Kay's tone was unreadable as he picked up the pinecone, “if that's how this is going to be.”

Kay's eyes locked on to Agrivane and took one oversized step towards him.

“I have made mistakes in my life,” Agrivane announced as he took a cautious step back, swooping down to pick up another pine cone, “but I will not let this be one of them.”

“Bet,” Kay said before he started to run.

Gareth took the oppertunity to throw a pinecone of his own at Kay, managing to hit him on the shoulder.

Chase barked once and started running after Kay.

“Now it's three against one again!” Kay shouted, changing direction to run away from the dog. Kay was laughing, though.

“I think there's about to be a game of dodgeball with pine cones,” Tristan said, “I'll take Ingrid inside before she learns things.”

“Thanks babe,” Isolde told him before scouring for a pinecone of her own.

Lion followed Tristan and Ingrid inside.

Lancelot decided he'd had enough surprise encounters with plants for one lifetime and followed Lion.

\--

Bertilak decided he needed to just start keeping a first aid kit on him at all times.

“Who knew pinecones could be so dangerous?” Kay asked as Bertilak cleaned a particularly deep cut above his eye.

“You lot have really, really got to get outside more,” Bertilak informed him.

“Excellent idea,” Kay agreed, “this will be an excellent week to start.”

“Ow!” Sagramore could be heard from the dining room.

“Hold still and how did you even get so much thistle in your arm?” Ragnelle asked him.

“I don't know!” he whined, “Why are plants so tricky?”

“I'm glad I have an easy patient,” Bertilak told Kay quietly.

“It's just a scratch,” Kay shrugged, “Or not. Are those butterfly stitches?”

“Yep,” Bertilak didn't sugar coat it.

“It's like being in training all over again,” Kay didn't flinch as Bertilak closed the wound, “I didn't realize how much I missed it.”

“I am glad you lot learned with practice swords instead of pine cones and rocks,” Bertilak told him, “Do you know who managed to nearly take your eye out?”

“Oh,” Kay's face flushed, “that was me. I hit a branch when I turned around too slowly trying to hit Art.”

“Oh my gods,” Bertilak shook his head, “Pick the gods, I'm not going to be responsible for inviting any of them in particular on this trip.”

“Highways, convinence stores, and, uhm, you?” Kay had no idea if there were gods of highways or convience stores, but life was already strange enough that he was open to believing almost anything.

\--

Agrianve's natural instinct was to make it up to the roof after dinner.

“Care to join me?” he asked Lamorak.

Lamorak nodded. They found a ladder and decided it was a better bet than trying to figure out how to scale the vinyl siding.

“It's beautiful,” Lamorak said as soon as he looked up at the stars, “I don't think I've ever seen so many of them. In this life, anyways.”

“It's almost primal,” Agrivane agreed. The wind was strong but felt good against his face and hands.

“Hmn,” Lamorak agreed, “I'm glad Gaheris picked here.”

“It's so,” Agrivane treid to find the words, “Something about it feels like the wild lands outside of Camelot. Like we're outside of time and space itself.”

Lamorak shivered, something feeling **right** about Agrivane's assessment.

A particularly strong gust of wind knocked the ladder to the ground.

“Ah fuck,” Agrivane didn't need to look up to know what that sound was, “Well, when someone comes running we'll let them know we're up here.”

“Solid plan,” Lamorak agreed.

\--

It was well over an hour before someone realized the should check to see where Lamorak and Agrivane had gone off to.

“Guys?” Owen called for them, “Are you out here?”

“On the roof!” Agrivane called back, “Mind righting the ladder?”

“Oh my god what if everyone assumed you'd slipped off and left you up there?” Owen called back, “Let me get a second set of hands to keep it steady. Wind's wild tonight.”

\--

By the time Owen and Sagramore helped Agrivane and Lamorak off the roof, a impromptu kareoke party had broken out in the main area of the house.

Dinadan was singing something none of them recognized but they decided quite quickly it didn't matter because the bard-knight could _sing_.

It looked like someone had set up string lights throughout the room, but Agrivane blinked a few times and realized that, no, those were in fact floating lights. Floating lights that were moving in time to the music.

“Holy shit,” Lamorak whispered.

Palamedes was next to them almost instantly. “He has no idea,” he whispered, “and we've decided he should probably notice first, but at least let him finish the song before someone absolutely shatters his notion he's like everyone else.”

“Huh,” was all Lamorak could manage.

\--

“Holy fuck,” Bors was the first one to say something when Dinadan finished singing, “That. You.”

Dinadan let his eyes refocus. The lights were gone, but no one moved.

“Dinadan,” Galehaut said slowly.

“What?” Dinadan's eyes widened in horror.

“Those lights,” Galehaut looked around the room and realized no one else was going to try to figure out what had just happened, “was that you?”

“You guys saw it?” Diandan squeaked.

“What?” Palamedes saved Galehaut from having to try to answer that one.

“It started maybe a year after I moved to 'Frisco,” Dinadan explained, “Only sometimes, and only when I was alone, and it really just fely like I'd developed some sort of late-onset, weirdly specific synesthesia. It...huh.”

“We could all see it,” Mordred said, “and yeah, Gallahad, I see what you mean by once you have your own magics you can feel someone else's.”

“That was _beautiful_ ,” Gawain sounded in genuine awe, “Can you do it again?”

The horror began to fade from Dinadan's eyes. “Can I, Dinadan, sing another song?” he laughed, “If I ever say no assume something has gone horribly wrong.”

\--

Tristan watched Isolde, Ingrid, and Lion sleep in the bed next to him. They'd brought a pop-up bed, but everyone seemed so content that he decided not to wake them when he finally felt tired.

This life, this feeling, the way things were unfolding.

This life, he decided, was the one he'd always wanted.


	11. Snap Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signal fires in the mirror are as they appear.

“Hey,” Morgan's voice was so timid that, at first, Viviane was talking in her sleep, “did we ever consider that if one of ours can find a new body, so can, well, others?”

“Morgs?” Viviane was suddenly so, so awake, “Morgs, what's going on?”

“We've made a critical oversight,” Morgan's voice was more fear than words, “and we're too late.”

–

Bors would never admit how much time he spent lying awake, trying so hard to go back to bed instead of get up to pee. The blankets were warm and he knew the house was not.

Still, the need to pee won out.

Later, much later, he would reflect that maybe is he hadn't waited so long things would have gone differently.

Things might have gone better.

On his way back to the room he's claimed a corned of, he noticed what looked like a sunrise beginning to peak over the horizon. 

“Is it that early?” he asked himself. 

If it was, why wasn't Kay up and cooking?

Bors walked to the kitchen to check the stove top clock. Sure enough, it was barely past three in the morning.

He went back to the window, slightly more awake, so try to figure out what was going on.

“Oh,” he realized, “Oh, no.”

–

“What the hell are they doing in the middle of nowhere?” Viviane was trying to get as many tools and weapons together as she could, “The one fucking time it would be convenient for them to be at the Winery or the hotel and they're on the other side of the fucking country.”

“Portal networks take less time to set up if you stop screaming,” Morgan, too, was yelling.

“Do we know who we're up against?” Viviane asked.

“Three!” Morgan yelled back, “One's the fucking Merlin again, and the others -” she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Morgs?” Viviane ran to find her partner.

“Hello, sister,” Morgause had Morgan's exit blocked, “It's been a while.”

She was wearing a full coat of iron armor – a declaration of War in Avalon – and carrying a sword with no scabbard.

“Shit,” Viviane hissed, “Morgause, stand down.”

“And let you stop them?” Morgause laughed, “I always knew Arthur was your favorite sibling but, really, Morgan, it's time to let Camelot die.”

“You are not welcome here,” Viviane hissed.

“That's cute,” Morgause smirked.

“Leave,” Morgan said.

“No,” Morgause laighed.

“I said GO!” Morgan bellowed.

Viviane went.

–

“FIRE!” Bors ran through the house, “FIRE! FAST! FIRE!”

There were confused murmurs that grew more and more panicked.

Bors had never heard of a fire moving that quickly before.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew it wasn't just fire they were dealing with.

Slowly, as if guided by an unseen force, everyone started moving towards the living room.

Guinevere stood in the middle of the crowd, panicked.

“Jenny!” Arthur shouted as he ran down the stairs.

“It's not -” Jenny's voice was broken, “Nothing's happening!”

“Kay!” Arthur was still acting as King, the instinct and impulse to act fast and preserve as much as possible, “Kay, can you keep the fire away from the house?”

“On it,” Kay nodded before he ran outside in his bare feet.

“Everyone else,” Arthur's voice was level, “while we're trying to figure out how to get out of here, go get only what you absolutely cannot live without. If we have to walk or run, we do not want to be carrying and excess weight.”

Isolde handed Ingrid to Dinadan.

“I'll get your wallet,” Palamedes told him, “If shit hits the fan, hold her tight and GO, you hear me?”

Dinadan nodded. Ingrid started screaming. 

Lion positioned himself between Dinadan and the window.

–

Kay was helpless.

“Useless,” he hissed, “So fucking useless.”

The fire had moved faster than he could run to warn the others, and the only thing he could do was keep himself from being burned as he tried to run, tried to keep air in his lungs.

Tried to get back to everyone else.

–

Viviane found herself at the edge of the evacuation area.

She tried to open a portal to get closer to where she believed everyone was, but couldn't.

A stranger in uniform moved her away from the barrier.

–

Kay made it to the house just in time to see the roof catch fire.

He burned his hand on the doorknob as he let himself in.

The first thing he saw that wasn't fire was Arthur and Lot standing face-to-face.

“SIR LANCELOT!” Arthur bellowed over the flames, “TO ME!”

Lancelot did as Arthur commanded, a Champion responding to the King.

Kay grabbed a knife from the kitchen.

Everyone else was running around, trying to get out, trying to avoid the flames, trying to find what they needed to do to get Guinevere's portals working.

Somewhere deep within the house, he heard Ingrid screaming.

“Why?” Arthur asked Lot, “Why would you do this?”

_It's the blade,_ Lancelot told Arthur such that only Arthur could hear him, _if we can get that blade from him, we may be able to get out of here._

Before Arthur could formulate a plan, Kay ran the knife through Lot's ribs, then again, and again.

“Well that works,” Lancelot said aloud.

More screaming, from deeper in the house, this time of someone wounded.

Arthur took the sword from Lot's dead grip. He heard fingers snap.

“One!” Jenny's voice came from the walkway above the living room, “I got one but I'm too weak to keep it open!”

Agrivane shoved Gareth through.

“I don't know where that went,” Jenny admitted as the portal closed.

“Somewhere that isn't here and that's what matters,” Agrivane told her, “Go find Ingrid and get her out of here, then those who won't be able to fight. I'll rally those I can to Arthur. I don't thin this is over.”

Jenny nodded and took off.

–

Agrivane, Kay, Bedivere, Mordred, Galahad, Gawain, and Yvain rallied.

“No,” Arthur told Mordred, “Lot thought I was still King so whatever we're up against will be aiming for me. You take Galahad and GO.”

“But -” Mordred tried to argue.

“No buts,” Jenny appeared beside them, “GO.”

Agrivane shoved them as he had Gareth.

“Is this it?” Arthur asked.

“All I could get to,” Agrivane nodded.

“Jenny?” Arthur asked.

“Still have about half to go,” Jenny was exhausted, “I can't get to the third floor.”

“Kay, take Jenny and go,” Arthur commanded.

“I -” Kay faltered.

“GO,” Arthur repeated.

Jenny grabbed Kay by the wrist and took off again.

“Everyone else,” Arthur looked around at the last four men standing with him, “be ready and stay ready until we're clear.”

“I appreciate the hope,” Bedivere said under his breath.

–

Mordred found himself at the Do Lac residence, Galahad unconscious a few feet away.

“No,” Mordred coughed, smoke still thick in his lungs, “No no no no no no no NO!”

He tried to turn around, to go back through the portal before it closed.

There was only darkness.

–

“Ah crap it's the Merlin again,” Bedivere heard himself say.

“SAME DRILL!” Arthur felt the smoke searing his lungs, “Stay as mobile as you can.”

The Merlin was more smoke than physical form, the the energy. The energy was unmistakable.

Arthur gripped the sword tighter.

Merlin pulled the kitchen knife out of Lot's back.

Jenny and Kay made it back to the living room with Lamorak and Bertilak in tow.

“The fire's not normal,” Kay informed everyone, “I can only do so much!”

“Excellent,” the Merlin's voice sounded like ice crystals crashing into each other, “Finally, I will see Camelot's last King fall and his precious champion and beloved brother will get to watch.”

Arthur took a deep breath. Looked over to Guinevere and nodded.

Guinevere opened a portal and shoved Kay through it.

–

Isolde was in her apartment, smoke clinging to her, hair singed and body screaming.

She had no idea where Ingrid was.

She screamed, a primal thing that shook the very foundation of her soul.

–

Bedivere watched Kay disappear.

–

Arthur bought as much time as he could, circling the Merlin while Guinevere used any and all strength she had left to get everyone else home.

The Merlin was so focused on Arthur that it was as if he did not notice the number of witnesses was dwindling.

–

Viviane found herself in the middle of a burning living room.

Not any living room she recognized, though she supposed any room was difficult to recognize when consumed with fire.

She was able to gain her bearings with just enough time to see the Merlin run Arthur through with a kitchen knife.

Arthur had already been on his knees, clearly nearly done this last fight, when it happened.

Guinevere and Lancelot's screams barely rose above the roar of the fire.

She ran towards the Merlin.

“You,” the Merlin hissed.

“This one's personal,” she growled.

They collided and disappeared at the same time.

“Art,” Jenny was kneeling in front of him, “Art, no, no, we;ll figure this out,” she used her hands to try to stem the bleeding, “Arthur, no, I love you, you -” she broke off in a sob, the smoke barely letting enough air get into her lungs to cry.

“I'd hoped to retire,” Arthur wheezed.

“Save your strength,” Lancelot was kneeling behind Guinevere, “we'll get you home.”

Arthur's unfocused gaze looked past Guinevere, towards Lancelot.

“Home,” he nodded, “yes.”

Guinevere's mouth hung open in an unspoken question. Arthur nodded.

“Tell our kids they'll do great, will you Lance?” Arthur managed a sentence.

Guinevere opened a portal and reared back to headbutt Lancelot through it in one fluid motion.

“Go,” Arthur begged Jenny.

“No,” she refused, holding him close to her, “No, I can't, I can't, I won't.” She refused over an over as if that would change anything.

–

She didn't know how long she knelt there, clinging on to Arthur's lifeless body, too weak to move, ready for the fire to take her, too, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, too far gone to worry about who found their way in this mess.

“It's time,” Igraine told her, “for the final guard to shift.”

“Wait,” Guinevere pleaded, “My soul for Camelot's future. I offer it. Please.”

“If that is you wish,” Igraine nodded.

Guinevere closed her eyes as she felt the fire shift to a cool mist.


	12. Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, the storms.

Dinadan found himself on the outer perimeter of the fire evacuation zone, people moving around so quickly they didn't even notice his sudden appearance.

Ingrid was screaming in his arms and Lion was blocking him from the thickest parts of the crown, the edges of his fur singed but otherwise unharmed.

Dinadan took a few gulping breaths of fresh air.

“Excuse me,” he said to the nearest person, “Can I use your phone? Please?”

The stranger started to move away.

“Please, her mother,” Dinadan held Ingrid closer.

The stranger handed him his phone with a _make it quick, you aren't the only one suffering_ snarl.

–

Lancelot landed on a cactus. With a scream.

Once he was able to stop screaming long enough to remove himself,he started screaming again.

“I WISH YOU WERE THE WORST PART OF MY FUCKING DAY!”

He was screaming at a cactus in the dark.

–

Isolde picked up her phone despite not recognizing the number.

“I have her,” Dinadan said as soon as the line connected, “I have her and we're safe.”

“Oh thank god,” Isolde sobbed.

“Where are you?” Dinadan asked.

“Home,” she managed.

“We'll make our way back to you as soon as we can,” Dinadan promised, “She'll be safe.”

Isolde hung up, unable to deal with any more.

On the other end of the line, Dinadan handed the phone back to its owner.

–

Agrivane landed on a wooden deck with a thump. He rolled instinctively, then stopped when he nearly rolled off the deck.

Mordred was beside him, so suddenly, gripping his ankle with more force than he should have been able to manage.

“Agrivane?” Mordred's voice was shattered.

“Mo,” Agrivane's voice cracked.

–

Bertilak was in Avalon. He knew this, on a base level.

He knew Gawain was standing beside him, gasping for air and barely able to keep his legs from collapsing under him.

Everything was wrong.

–

Kay had no idea where he was.

He came back to consciousness with Bedivere's myoelectric wrist on top of his own. Kay rushed to make sure the rest of Bedivere was still there.

“Oh thank fuck,” Kay exhaled as he saw Bedivere's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

–

Lamorak landed on his feet – quite literally – in the DuLac dining room.

He was greeted by an absolutely terrified Mordred and Agrivane, one holding a rolling pin and the other with clenched fists.

“Lamorak,” Agrivane unclenched his fists and threw himself at his partner.

–

Lionel knew this place, he realized as his ability to sense the world came back into focus.

But why the hell was he back at their flat?

He forced himself to his feet, counted Lynette, Gareth, Ragnelle, Owen, and Sagramore in the same room, all in similar states of so barely conscious and unfocused, but all struggling to rise to their feet.

They'd survived.

–

Gaheris was on the floor of the winery's main house with Chase and Stardancer licking his face.

He made a confused, overwhelmed noise as he struggled to sit up.

“Oh thank fuck,” Yvain was kneeling in front of him, “You've been out for near an hour and I had no idea what to do. I was getting ready to call an ambulance.”

Gaheris looked around and felt Arthur and Guinevere's absence acutely.

“They're not coming, are they?” Gaheris asked.

Yvain didn't know how to answer, didn't know the answer.

“We were supposed to have more time,” Gaheris laid back down on the floor.

–

Tristan, Izz, and Ellie appeared in front of Isolde almost at the same time. She screamed, apparently not yet done letting all the grief and rage out, before she was able to register who they were.

“Isolde,” Tristan staggered to his feet, “Oh, Isolde, Isolde.”

“Dinadan has her,” Isolde told him, “They're alive. Safe.”

“Oh Isolde,” Tristan sobbed and held her close.

–

Galehaut found himself standing on the same pier he'd regained his memories. His legs were burnt and he feared his arm might be broken.

He hoped he was in shock as he started walking home.

–

Bors felt someone shaking him.

“Hey,” Percival said, his voice raspy, as Bors came back to the world, “Elyan's here but he's banged up pretty bad.

“How bad?” Bors pushed through his own pain to get to his feet.

“Conscious, talking,” Percival told him, “took some part of the roof to his chest so there's a lot of blood but his lungs sound like they're whole.”

“Where are we?” Bors asked.

“Our old house in Amsterdam,” Percival frowned, “We're lucky the new owners seem to be out, but we're going to have to figure out how to more Elyan sooner rather than later.”

Bors nodded.

–

“Where are we?” Gawain asked, steadying himself on Bertilak.

“Avalon,” Bertilak was staring straight ahead.

“What?” Gawain balked, “No, this can't be Avalon. This is. So. So...wrong.”

“This is Avalon,” Bertilak's voice was steel, “in a time of war.”

Gawain's brain didn't catch up with the implication when his mouth said, “We need to get the survivors.”

Bertilak nodded, knowing going through his portals was going to hurt even the strongest still standing.

–

Guinevere shivered, her body cold as the mists danced as if alive around here. She recognized the feeling from the afternoon she spent in the hotel with a bunch of ghosts.

“Jenny,” Arthur's ghost said to her, “Oh my Jenny, what have you done.”

“The same as Morgan, as Gawain,” she was trembling, “though I seem to have landed at a different point than they did.”

Arthur chuckled. “Oh my fair May Queen,” he reached a hand to her cheek, stopping where it would if it was still physical, “you have followed me to the underworld when you could be standing back home.”

“Home is in trouble,” Guinevere reminded him, “and someone needed to take an extra step to preserve it.”

“This is no place for the living,” Arthur told her.

“I will go back when I am needed, “Guinevere assured him, “until then as long as you don't start calling me Persephone, I can overlook the location.”

Arthur laughed despite everything.

–

Galahad came to on his father's couch.

“What?” he startled, but found three sets of hands holding him in place.

“Gal,” Mordred whispered, “easy.”

“Okay,” Galahad said, and all sets of hands were off of him save for Mordreds, which moved to his shoulder, “What happened?”

“We were all pushed through portals if we didn't go willingly,” Agrivane told him, “and it seems four of us landed here.”

“Who has their phones?” Galahad asked, “out of the four of us, who has their phones?”

“I do,” Lamorak said.

“Start calling everyone,”Mordred saw where Galahad was going, “See where they are, see if they have their wallets on them. If they're somewhere accessible by road, we'll send a ride to them and then send them money for a flight home if they need it. If not, well, we'll figure that out as we go.”

Lamorak nodded, unlocked his phone, and handed it to Mordred.

“I think they need to hear from their King,” Lamorak told him.

–

Gawain and Bertilak found Lancelot first.

“Jesus fuck dude,” Gawain couldn't help himself, “How?”

“Arthur is dead,” Lancelot told them, “and Viviane disappeared in combat with the Merlin.”

Gawain's eyes hardened as his face fell.

“Shit,” Bertilak hissed, “How much more pain do you think you can stand?”

“If you're going to take me home,” Lancelot told him, “as much as I need to.”

–

Dinadan had decided the safest thing to do was follow the road away from the fire. If nothing else, the further he could get Ingrid away from the smoke, the better.

He could feel his feet bleeding, each step he took more difficult than the last.

He heard hoofbeats coming from behind him.

“Whoa,” someone was atop one of the horses so suddenly there, “Need a ride?”

Dinadan looked up at the stranger, looked at the small herd of horses he was leading, all saddled, and nodded.

“Hey big girl,” he said to Ingrid, “I know you're tired, but do you think I can put you on the horse and you hold on real, real tight for a minute so I can get on, too?'

Ingrid nodded, so exhausted and terrified she didn't want to let go, but she did as she was asked.

Dinadan forced himself in the saddle behind her, one arm securely around her and the other on the reigns.

“You from around here?” the man asked.

“No,” Dinadan couldn't stand to put his feet in the stirrups, “visiting.”

“Well shit,” the stranger was clearly trying to get out of his own head as well, “These are my horses and I need to get them as far away as possible. Once we're clear of the worst of it I can help you get where you need to go.”

“Thanks,” Dinadan nodded, “Oh, do you have a phone? Her mother...”

“Oh, shit, sure,” the man leaned over to hand Dinadan his phone, “Code's five-eight-two-three.”

“Thanks,” Dinadan dropped the reigns, took the phone, unlocked it, and called Isolde.

Tristan picked up.

“Tristan!” Dinadan exclaimed, “Yeah, still safe. Long story short I don't have my phone or my wallet. Yeah, she's with me. We're on a horse, actually. Lion's with us, too. Poor dog's probably exhausted. Yeah. Oh, good. Alright. Yes. Yes. We'll figure it out. Call you when I get somewhere with an address? Of course. You take care of everyone.”

Dinadan ended the call and handed the phone back to its owner.

“So, uh,” the man looked between Dinadan and Ingrid.

“I'm her Uncle,” Dinadan managed a small smile, “Shit luck, really, that she's with me and not safe with her parents.”

“Given the circumstances I'm willing to bet there's nowhere safer that little girl could be,” the man told him, and Dinadan felt a surge of pride bloom in his chest.

–

Palamedes was waiting in a gas station for an Uber to the airport when Gawain and Bertilak showed up.

“We need to go,” Gawain told him, “Now.”

“No shit,” Palamedes was already on his feet.

“Wait,” Bertilak froze, “Someone's close.”

“Let's go meet them halfway,” Palamedes suggested.

They were outside just in time to meet a couple of grown men, a small child, and a very large dog at the corner.

“Din!” Palamedes ran over to them.

“Oh my fuck,” Dinadan breathed, “Always you. Take her, please.”

Palamedes took Ingrid, handed her to Gawain, and then helped Dinadan off his horse.

“Mabon!” Bertilak boomed, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Mabon's voice was still casual, “there's a war happening in Avalon and there were whispers of some Knights needing to be rounded up, so I figured: what better way than with horses I needed to get out of the otherworld anyways?”

“Today keeps getting weirder,” Dinadan hissed as his feet his the ground again. Palamedes scooped him up in a bridal-style carry almost immediately. “Thanks.”

“You're hurt,” Palamedes assessed.

“I never want to walk on my feet again,” Dinadan said, “but, thank you, Mabon.”

“Are you coming with us?” Bertilak asked.

“Once I'm done with the horses,” Mabon nodded, “Doubt I'll be the only one.”

“Travel well,” Bertilak told him, “Are you all ready?”

Ingrid started crying and reached out for Dinadan.

“Shhhh,” Gawain bounced her on his hip, “It's going to be alright. I promise.”

Bertilak spared Gawain a fond, brief smile before opening another portal to the DuLac kitchen.

–

Kay and Bedivere were the last ones Bertilak found.

Kay was on his knees, sobbing into his hands, and Bedivere was holding him tight.

“Arthur's dead, isn't he?” Bedivere didn't bother to say hello and otherwise indulge in social niceties.

“I am afraid so,” Bertilak confirmed, “and I wish that was the worst of it.”

“Tell us here,” Bedivere demanded, “Tell us what we're up against.”

“War,” Bertilak told him, “both alongside and against gods.”

Bedivere nodded, not letting go of Kay.

–

The smell of blood hit Bedivere first.

The Du Lac main floor had become a makeshift hospice.

“Do either of you need wounds tended?” Bertilak asked.

“I do not,” Bedivere told him, “Kay does.”

Bertilak nodded and disappeared into the main part of the house. He returned a moment later with Morgan, who was covered in blood that was not her own.

“Let me see,” she told Kay.

Morgan and Bedivere had to work together, slowly, carefully, to get Kay to show them the burns on his palms.

Morgan signed, took Kay's hand in both of hers, and focused.

When she took her hands away, the worst of it was already healed.

“You're the easiest patient tonight,” she told him.

“It's not that bad,” Kay managed to say.

Morgan frowned, took his hands again. “He was your brother, too,” she said to him.

Kay fell forward, letting Morgan hold him against her. Together, they wept while Bedivere stood guard, shielding them from the rest of the world.

–

“You will need to pick a champion,” Bertilak told Mordred, “one who is not your consort.”

“Fuck,” Mordred was curled up in the foyer bathroom, trying to avoid the smell of fear and death without leaving everyone, “Can I not grieve?”

“You can,” Bertilak told him, “but you must pick a champion before the sun rises.”

Mordred took a deep breath and nodded.

–

Mordred tapped Agrivane on the shoulder twice, a silent question to follow him. Agrivane did, not saying anything until they were out front, standing in front of the garage.

Mordred sat down as Agrivane had what felt like a lifetime ago, knees to his chest and arms around his knees. Agrivane sat down next to Mordred as physically close as possible.

“Apparently I have to pick a champion before the sun rises,” Mordred told him, “Bertilak made it sound like Camelot would fall despite everything if I did not.”

Agrivane checked his phone. “The sun rises in three minutes. Why are we out here if you only have three minutes?”

Mordred took a moment to collect himself.

“Because I'm hoping you'll accept,” Mordred told him.

“Me?” Agrivane asked, disbelieving.

“You,” Mordred nodded.

“Do you truly believe I am enough to be _champion?_ ” Agrivane knew every second counted, but he could not help but ask.

“No,” Mordred said, “but a champion should never be enough. A champion is someone the King can turn to, who can give hope in the darkest of times, who knows how to show his King the right path without pushing him in any direction. A champion is exceptional, and quite frankly there's not a second choice on the docket.”

Agrivane let out a single, shuddering sob before he accepted.

–

Once they'd managed to pull themselves together, Mordred and Agrivane made it back inside.

“Agrivane,” Lamorak was waiting at the door. He put one arm around Agrivane and used the other hand to wipe the last of the tears off his face, “what happened?”

Agrivane watched Mordred walk into the house, shoulders proud and steps sure, and told Lamorak Mordred had asked him to be his Champion.

–

Once everyone was gathered in one room – those still to injured to walk or stand on air mattresses or couches – Mordred cleared his throat. Galahad stood to his left. Agrivane stood to his right, then Lamorak on Agrivane's other side.

“I wish there was better news,” Mordred said, “better time, better everything. But there is none of those things here.

“Arthur is dead. War is coming and we will have to find a way to run and train until we are ready to fight the gods themselves,” Mordred promised himself he wouldn't mince words, wouldn't sugar coat anything. He forced himself to continue despite wishing he could go back to his and Galahad's apartment and sleep for a few weeks.

“I realize this – fighting the gods and a mad magic that seems to be warping Avalon itself, the spring that feeds Camelot – is not a banner to taken up lightly. And so I ask you now, here, with no judgment or ill-will if you refuse. Who stands to fight along side me – who here fights for Camelot?”

“I do,” Kay wasted no time.

“I stand,” Dinadan said despite not being able to.

“For Camelot,” Lancelot managed.

There was a chorus, slow, broken, but gaining in strength – for Camelot, for justice, for what is right, so others do not have to.

“For Camelot,” Lamorak was the last to answer, “for my home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all ready for part three?


End file.
